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SCENE II. THE SEA-COAST.
may he be.
SCENE 1. AN APARTMENT IN THE DUKE'S PALACE. That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart, Enter Duke, Curio, Lords; Musicians attending. These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
Duke. If music be the food of love, play on, (Her sweet perfections,) with one self king!Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers; The appetite may sicken, and so die.
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with That strain again ;-it had a dying fall :
[exeunt. 0, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Enter Viola, Captain, and Sailors.
Cap. Illyria, Jady.
My brother he is in Elysium.
(sailors? Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Percbance, he is not drown'd ;-what think you, Of what validity and pitch soever,
Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were But falls into abatement and low price,
saved. Even in a minute ! so full of shapes is fancy,
Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, That it alone is high-fantastical. Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ?
Car. True, madam: and, to comfort you with Duke. What, Curio ?
chance, Cur. The hart.
Assure yourself, after our ship did split, Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: When you, and that poor number saved with you, O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, . Methought, she purg'd the air of pestilence; Most provident in peril, bind himself That instant was I turn'd into a hart;
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, To a strong mast that lived upon the sea; E’er since pursue me.--How now? what news Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, from her ?
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
So long as I could see.
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
The like of him. Know'st thou this country? But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,
Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and And water once a-day her chamber round
born With eye-offending brine; all this to season Not three hours' travel from this very place. A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh, Vio. Who governs here? And lasting, in her sad remembrance.
Cap. A poble duke, in nature, Duke. O, she that hath a heart of that fine As in his name. frame,
Vio. What is his name? To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
Cap. Orsino. How will she love, when the rich golden shaft Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him Hath kill'd the lock of all affections else
He was a bachelor then
Cap. And so is now,
17433 viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages, Or was so very late ; for but a month
word for word, without book, and hath all the Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh good gifts of nature. In murmur, (as, you know, what great ones do, Mar. He hath, indeed, -almost natural: for, The less will prattle of,) that he did seek
besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller; and, The love of fair Olivia.
but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the Vio. What's she?
gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought, among Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count, the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a That died some twelvemonth since ; then leaving grave. her
Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and In the protection of his son, her brother,
substractors, that say so of him. Who are they? Who shortly also died : for whose dear love, Mar. They that add, moreover,
he's drunk They say, she hath abjur'd the company
nightly in your company. And sight of men.
Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; Vio. O, that I served that lady;
I'll drink to her, as long as there is a passage in Anu might not be delivered to the world
my throat, and drink in Illyria : he's a coward, Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, and a coystril, that will not drink to my niece, What my estate is.
till his brains turn o'the toe like a parish-top. Cap. That were hard to compass;
What, wench? Castiliano vulgo; for here comes Because she will admit no kind of suit,
Sir Andrew Ague-face. No, not the duke's.
Enter. Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain; Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby And though that nature with a beauteous wall Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew! (Belch? Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee:
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. I will believe, thou bast a mind that suits
Mar. And you too, sir. With this thy fair and outward character.
Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. I pray thee, and L'll pay thee bounteously,
Sir And. What's that? 237 !!!! Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
Sir To: My niece's chamber-maid. For such disguise as, haply, shall become
Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke ; acquaintance. Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him, Mar. My name is Mary, sir. It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing, Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,And speak to him in many sorts of music,
Sir To. You mistake, knight : accost, is, front That will allow me very worth his service. o ber, board her, woo her, assail her. What else may hap, to time I will commit; 11% Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
her in this company.
Is that the meaning of Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: accost? When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see! Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. Vio. I thank thee : lead me on. [e.reunt. Sir To. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew,
SCENE III. A ROOM IN OLIVIA'S HOUSE. 'would thou might'st never draw sword again. 2:1:47. Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Maria.
Sir And. An' you part 20, mistress, I would Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's you think you have fools in hand ? an enemy to life.
Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. í Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come Sir And. Marry, but you shall have : and here's in earlier o'nights; your cousin, my lady, takes
hand. great exceptions to your ill hours.
Mar. Now, sir, thought is free: I pray you, Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink.
Mar. Ay, but you must contine yourself within Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your the modest limits of order.
metaphor ? Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer Mar. It's dry, sir. than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink Sir And. Why, I think 80; I am not such an in, and so be these boots too ; an' they be not, let ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's them hang themselves in their own straps. (
1997 Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo Mar. A dry jest, sir. you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and Sir And. Are you full of them?' of a foolish knight that you brought in one night Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends : here to be her wooer.
bes! marry, now I let go your hand, I am.barren. Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek?
[exit Maria, Mar. Ay, he.
Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. when did I see thee so put down? Mar. What's that to the purpose ? [year. Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a you see canary put me down: methinks, some -Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these times I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ducats ; he's a very fool, and a prodigal.
ordinary man has : but I am a great eater of boot, Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so ! he plays o'the land, I believe, that does harm tu my wit.
Sir To. No question.
gence, that you call in question the continuance Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. of his love; is he inconstant, sir, in his farouss? I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby.
Val. No, believe me. Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight?
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants. Sir And. What is pourquoy ? do or not do? I
Vio. I thank you.
Here comes the count. would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho ? that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting : Vio. On your attendance, my lord ; nere. O, had I but followed the arts !
Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.–Cesario. Sir To. Then badst thou had an excellent head Thou know'st no less but all; I have unciasp 'i of hair.
To thee the book even of my secret soui : Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair ? Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her ;
Sir To. Past question ; for tbou seest, it will Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors, not curl by pature.
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shali grow, Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, Till thou have audience. does't not?
Vio. Sure, my noble lord, Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like fax on a If she be so abandou'd to her sorrow distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee As it is spoke, she never will admit me. between her legs, and spin it off.
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Rather than make unprofited return. (then? Toby; your niece will not be seen ; or, if she be, Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; what it's four to one she'll none of me: the count him. Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, self, here hard by, wooes her.
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith : Sir To. She'll none o'the count: she'll not It shall become thee well to act my woes; match above her degree, neither in estate, years, She will attend it better in thy youth, | nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's Than in a nuncio of more grave aspéct. life in't, man.
Vio. I think not so, my
y lord. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a Duke. Dear lad, believe it;. fellow o'the strangest mind i'the world; I delight For they shall yet belie thy happy years, in masques and revels sometimes altogether. That say, thou art a man : Diana's lip
Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe knight?
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound, Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever And all is semblative a woman's part, he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I I know, thy constellation is right apt 1!01,5% will not compare with an old man.
For this affair.-Some four, or five, attend him; Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, All, if you will; for I myself am best, knight?
When least in company.- Prosper well in this, Šir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.
To call his fortune thine. Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, Vio. I'll do my best, simply as strong as any man in Illyria.
To woo your lady; yet, laside) a barful strife! Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? where- Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [exeunt fore have these gifts a curtain before them ? are SCENE V. A ROOM IN OLIVIA'S HOUSE, they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's pic
Enter Maria and Clown. ture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been and come home in a coranto? My very walk should or I will not open my lips, so wide as a bristle be a jig! I would not so much as make water, may enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? is bang thee for thy absence. it a world to hide virtues in? I did think by the Clo. Let her hang me! he, that is well hanged excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed in this world, needs to fear no colours. under the star of a galliard.
Mar. Make that good. Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent Clo. He shall see none to fear. well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set Mar. A good lenten answer. I can tell thee about some revels?
where that saying was born, of, • I fear no colours. Sir To. What shall we do else ? were we not Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? born under Taurus ?
Mar. In the wars : and that you may be bold Sir Ard. Taurus ? that's sides and heart. to say in your foolery. :*
Sir To. No, sir! it is legs and thighs. Let Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; me set thee caper : ha! higher : ha, ba !-excel and those that are fools, let them use their talents ient!
[ereunt Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long SCENE IV. A ROOM IN THE DUKE'S PALACE.
absent: or, to be turned away, is not that as good Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire. as a hanging to you?
Val. If the duke continue these favours towards Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar. fou, Cesario, you are like to be much' advanced; riage; and, for turning away let summer bear it out ho hath known you but three days, and already Mar. You are resolute, then ?. 141 u are no stranger.
Clo. Not so, neither ; but I am resulvel on Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negli- two poiuts.
Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold ; | brain than a stone. Look you zow, he's out of or, if both brcak, your gaskins fall.
his guard already: unless you laugh and minister Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt! Well, go occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take, thy way; if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in fools, no better than the fools' zanies. Illyria.
Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and Har. Pcace, you roguc, no more o'that; here taste with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you guiltless, and of free dispo ion, is to take those were best.
(exit. things for bird-bolts, that you deem cannon-bullets : Enter Olivia and Malvolio.
there is no slander in an allowed fool, though ha Clo. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good do nothing but rail: nor no railing in a known fooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, lack thee, may pass for a wise man : for what for thou speakest well of fools. says Quinapulus? Better a witty fool, than a
Re-enter Maria. foolisb wit.—God bless thee, lady!
Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young Ol. Take the fool away.
gentleman, much desires to speak with you. Clo. Do you not hcur, fellows? take away the Oli. From the count Orsino, is it. lady.
Mar. I know not, madam ; 'tis a fair young Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of man, and well attended, you: besides, you grow dishonest.
Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay? Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kingman. counsel will amend: for, give the dry fool drink, Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man nothing but madman: fie on him! (erit Maria.] mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dis-Go you, Malvolio; if it be a suit from the count, honest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him: I am sick, or not at home; what you will to any thing, that's mended, is but patched; virtue, dismiss it. [exit Malvolio.] Now you see, sir, how that transgresses, is but patched with sin; and sin, your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. that amends, is but patched with virtue: if that Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if this simple syllogism will serve, so ; if it will not, thy eldest son should be a fool ; whose skull Jove what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but cram with brains, for here he comes, one of thy calamity, so beauty's a flower ;—the lady bade kin, has a weak pia mater. take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take
Enter Sir Toby Belch.
Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. - What is Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.
he at the gate, cousin ? Clo. Misprision in the highest degree !—Lady, Sir To. A gentleman. Cucullus non facit monachum ; that's as much as Oli. A gentleman? What gentleman ? to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here- A plague Madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. o'tbese pickle-herrings !-How now, sot. Oli. Can you do it?
Clo. Good Sir Toby,-Clo. Dexterously, good madonna.
Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so Oli. Make your proof.
early by this lethargy? Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna; Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery: there's one good my mouse of virtuc, answer me.
at the gate. Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll Oli. Ay marry; what is he? bide your proof.
Sir To. Let him be the devil, an de wiil, I Clo. Good madonna, why mournest thou? care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death.
[erit. Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool ? Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
Clo. Like a drowned man, a fool, and a mad. Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn man : one draught above heat makes him a fool; for your brother's soul being in heaven- Take the second mads him; and a third drowns him. away the fool, gentlemen.
Oli. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him Oli
. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? sit o'my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, doth he not mend ?
he's drowned : go, look after bim. Mal. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of death Clo. He is but mad yet madonna ; and the fo. 1 shake him : infirmity, that decays the wise, doth shall look to the madman.
[exit Clown. erer make the better fool.
Re-enter Malvolio. Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will will speak with you; I told him you were sick ; be sworn, that I am no fox; but he will not pass he takes on him to understand so much, and his word for twopence, that you are no fool. therefore comes to speak with you; I told him Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio?
you were asleep; he seems to have a fore-known Mcl. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in ledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak euch a barren rascal: I saw him put down the with you. What is to be said to him, lady? be's Ollier day with an ordinary fool, that has no more fortified against any denial.
Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. is: Vio. I am a messenger.?
Mal. He has been told so: and he says, he'll Oli. Sure, you have some bideous matter to stanı at your door like a sheriff's post, and be deliver, when the courtesy of it is 80 fearful the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you. Speak your office. Dii. What kind of man is he?
Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no Mal. Why of man kind.
overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold Oli. What manner of man?
the olive in my hand: my words are as full of Mal. Of very ill manner: he'll speak with you, peace as matter. will you, or no.
Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you; Oli. Of what personage, and years is he? what would you?
Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young Vio. The rudeness, that hath appear'd in me, enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I peascod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple; am, and what I would, are as secret as maiden. tis with him e'en standing water between boy head: to your ears, divinity; to any other's, proand man.
He is very well-favoured, and he fanation. speaks very sbrewishly; one would think, his Oli. Give us the place alope: we will hear this another's milk were scarce out of him.
divinity. [exit Muria.] Now, sir, what is your Oli. Let him approach : call in my gentlewoman. text? Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [crit. Vio. Most sweet lady,– Re-enter Maria,
Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be
Vio. In Orsino's bosom.
Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. his heart. Your will?
Oli. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable you no more to say ? beauty,—I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. of the house, for I never saw her; I would be Oli. Have you any commission from your lord loth to cast away my speech; for, besides that it to negociate with my face? you are now out of is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great your text ? but we will draw the curtain, and pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain show you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one no scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least as I was this present; is't not well done? sinister usage.
! ! [unveiling. Oli. Whence came you, sir ?
Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; "twill endure wind and and that question's out of my part. Good gentle weather. one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady Vio.'Tis beauty truly bent, whose red and white of the house that I may proceed in my speech. Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Oli. Are you a comedian?
Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive, Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the If you will lead these graces to the grave, very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I And leave the world no copy. play. Are you the lady of the house?
Oli. O, sir, I will not be so bard-hearted;
I Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am.
will give out divers schedules of my beauty: it Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp shall be inventoried ; and every particle, and yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours utensil, labelled to my will; as, item, two lips to reserve. But this is from my commission: I indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to will on with my speech in your praise, and then them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. show you the heart of my message.
Were you sent hither to 'praise me. Oli. Come to what is important in't : I forgive Vio. I see you what you are: you are too proud; you the praise.
But, if you were the devil, you are fair, Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and My lord and master loves you ; 0, such love t's poetical.
Could be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray The nonpareil of beauty ! you, kept it in. I heard you were saucy at
my Oli. How does he love me? gates: and allowed your approach rather to won- Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, der at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. be gone; if you have reason, be brief : 'tis not Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot that time of moon with me, to make one in so
love him : tkipping a dialogue.
(way. Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir ? here lies your of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ;
T'io. No, good swabber: I am to hull here a In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, little longer. --Some mollification for your giant, And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, sweet lady.
A gracious person: but yet I cannot love hinn; Oli. Tell me your mind.
He might have took his answer long ago.