Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire bet- | picture? why dost thou not go to church in a ter acquaintance. Mar. My name is Mary, Sir. Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost, galliard, and come home in a coranto ? My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace. What Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost, is, front dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues her, board her, woo her, assail her. in? I did think by the excellent constitution of under-thy leg, it was formed under the star of a gal Sir And. By my troth, I would not take her in this company. Is that the meaning |liard.. of accost? Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. Sir To. Au thou let part so, Sir Andrew, 'would you might'st never draw sword again. Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the band. Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. Mar. Now, Sir, thought is free: I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Sir And. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? Mar. A dry jest, Sir. Sr And. Are you full of them? Mar. Ay, Sir; I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit MARIA. Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: When did I see thee so put down? Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down: Methinks, sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has: but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to wit. Sir To. No question. my it. Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not boru under Taurus? Sir And. Taurus? that's sides and heart. SCENE IV.-A_Room in the DUKE'S Enter VALENTINE and VIOLA, in man's Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced; he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger. Vio. You either fear his humour, or my neg. ligence, that von call in question the continuance of his love: Is he inconstant, Sir, in his favours! Vul. No, believe me. Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants. Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. Therefore, good youth, address thy gaituuto her; Be not denied access, stand at her doors, Till thon have audience. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Sir To. Then had'st thou had an excellent head of hair? Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature. Vio. Sure, my noble lord, she be so abandon'd to her sorrow Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; What then? Duke. Oh! then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: Sir And. But it becomes me well enough,It shall become thee well to act my woes; does't not? Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs and spin it off. Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the count bimself, bere hard by, wooes her. 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 belie thy happy years That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip is not more smooth and rubions; 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; Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a when least in company :--Prosper well in this, All, if you will; for I myself am best, fellow o' the strangest mind i the world; I de- And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, light in masques and revels sometimes alto-To call his fortunes thine. gether. Sir To. She'll none o' the count; she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man. Vio. I'll do my best, Sir To. Art hou good at these kick-shaws, To woo your lady: yet, [Aside.] a barful & strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. knight? Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet, I will not compare with an old man. Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper. Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, simply as strong as any man in Illyria. [Exeunt. SCENE VA Room in OLIVIA's House. Enter MARIA and CLOWN. Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips, so wide as a Alluding to the infamous Mary Frith, commonly called Mali Cut-Purse See Grainger's Biog. Hist. + Cinque-pace, the name of a dance. : Go thy Full of impediment. Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's way. bristle may enter, in way of thy excuse my lady will hang thee for thy absence. Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged Clo. He shall see none to fear. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long absent: or, to be turned away; is not that as good as hanging to you? Clo. Many 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 resolved 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 Illyría. Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more of that; here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, [Exit. you were best. Enter OLIVIA and MALVOLIO. Clo. Wit, and'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 lack thee, may pass for a wise man: For what says Quinapalus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.--God bless thee, lady I Oli. Take the fool away. ' Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. 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 mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him: Any thing that's mended, is but patched: virtue, that transgresses, is but patched with sin; and sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue: If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower-the lady bade thee take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you. ⚫ Clo. Misprison in the highest degree!-Lady, Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much as to say, I wear not motly in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. Oli. Can you do it? Clo. Dexterously, good madonna. Oli. Make your proof. Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna ; Good my mouse of virtue, answer me. Oli. Well, Sir, for want of other idleness, I'll abide 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. Cio. God send you, Sir, a speedy Infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will 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 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 gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies.* Oli. O you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered 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 allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, t for thou speakest well of fools. Re-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? 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 nothing but madman: Fye on him! [Exit MARIA.] Go you, Malvolio; if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home, what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit MALVOLIO.] Now you see, Sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram with brains, for here he comes, oue of thy kin, has a most weak pia mater. § Enter Sir TOBY BELCH. Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.—What is be at the gate, cousin? Sir To. A gentleman. Oli. A gentleman? What gentleman ? Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? Sir To. Lechery! I defy lechery: There's one 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 [Exit. one. Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second 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 mach, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. you were asleep; he seems to have a fore-know- Oli. Tell him he shall not speak with me. Mal. He has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you. Oli. What kind of man is he? 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 pease-cod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple : 'tis with him e'en standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewishly; oue would think, his mother's milk were scarce out of him. Oli. Let him approach: Call in my gentle Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no 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 maidenhead: to your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation. Oli. Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. [Exit MARIA.] Now, Sir, what is your text? Vio. Most sweet lady, Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text? Vio. In Orsino's bosom. Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom? Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. Oli. Oh! I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say? Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. Oct. Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er lord to negociate with my face? you are now my face; We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. Enter VIOL.A. Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your will? 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 loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage. Oli. Whence came you, Sir? Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, 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 very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house t Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for what is your's to bestow, is not your's to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show 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. Oli. It is the more likely to be feigned; 1 pray you, keep it in. I heard, you were sancy at my gates; and allowed your approach, rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue. Mar. Will you hoist sail, Sir? here lies your way. Vio. No, good swabber: I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant,+ zweet lady. Oli. Tell me your mind. Vio. I am a messenger. out of your text; but we will draw the curtain, and show you the picture. Look you, Sir, such a one as 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. Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, + whose red and Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : Oli. O Sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; will give out divers schedules of my beauty: It shall be inventoried; and every particle, and utensil, labelled 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? Vio. I see you what you are: you are too But, if you were the devil, you are fair. The nonpareil of beauty! 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 Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame, Oli. Why, what would you? Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to Cry out, Olivia! Oh you should not rest • Accountable. + appears from several parts of this play that the original actress of Maria was very short • Presents. + Blended, mixed together. t Well spoken of by the world. Cantos, verses. Echoing. Re-enter MALVOLIO. Mal. Here, madam, at your service. Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, The county's mau: he left this ring behind him, Would I, or not; tell him, I'll none of it. If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, Oli. I do I know not what; and fear to find What is decreed, must be; and be this so! ACT II. SCENE 1.-The Sea-coast. [Exit. Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN. Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper your's; therefore shall crave of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you. Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound. Seb. No, 'sooth, Sir; my determinate voyage 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 knew of me then, 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 La an hour. If the heavens had been pleased, 'would we had so ended! but, you, Sir, altered that; for, some hour before you took ine from the breach of the sea, was my sister drowned. Ant. Alas, the day! Seb. A lady, Sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful but, though I could not, with such estimable wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair: she is drowned already, Sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more. Ant. Pardon me Sir, your bad entertainment. Seb. & good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Ant. If you will not murder 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 recovered, desire it not. Fare ye 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: farewell. [Exit. Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee ! I have many enemies in Orsino's court, SCENE 11.-A Street. [Exit. Enter VIOLA; MALVOLIO following. Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Olivia? Vio. Even now, Sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither. 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 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 returned: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. [Exit. Vic. I left no ring with her: What ineans this lady? Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her ! She made good view of me; indeed, so much, For she did speak in starts distractedly. And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; [Exit, SCENE 111.-A Room in OLIVIA's House. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, 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, Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: I know, to be up late, is to be up late. but Sir To. A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfilled 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. Do not our lives consist of the four elements? Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking. 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 the picture of we three ? * Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. Clo. By'r lady, Sir, and some dogs will catch well. Sir And. Most certain : let our catch be, Thou knave. Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I shall be constrain'd in't to call thee knave, knight. Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace. Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable Sir And, Ay, he does well enough, if he be disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. Sir To. O the twelfth day of December,[Singing. Mar. For the love of God, peace. Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excel-fooling. leut breast. + I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians pass ing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman: Hadst it? Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; § for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock: My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. Sir And. Excellent; Why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song. Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence 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 good life? Sir To. A love-song, a love-song. Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. SONG. Clo. 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! Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter; In delay there lies no plenty; Sir To. A contageous breath. Sir And. Very sweet and contageous, 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. Enter MALVOLIO. 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! || Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though she barbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. needs be gone. Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby. Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done. Mal. Is't even so? Sir To. But I will never die. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. [Singing. Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not? Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not. Sir To. Out o'time? 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 T with crums :-A stoop of wine, Maria! 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 + Name of an old song. Romancer. 1 Equivalent to filly fally, shilly shally, • Method of late. |