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And she, mistaken, feems 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 thriftlefs sighs hall poor Olivia breathe ?
O time, thou must untangle this, not l;
It is too hard a knot for me t'unty.

(Exit. SC EŇ & ITI. Changes to Olivia's house.

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,

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

Sir To. A falfe conclusion: I hate it as an unfill'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 becimes. Does not our life consist of the four elements.

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

Sir To. Th'art a scholar, let us therefore eat and drink. Maria! 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.

Sir And. By my troth the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so (weet a breath to fing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou want

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jn very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok't of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians pafling the equinoctial of Queubus : 'twas very good, i'faith : I sent thee fixpence for thy lemon, hadít it?

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

Sir And. Excellent : why, this is the best fooling, wheq all is done. Now, a song

Sir To. Come on, there's 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 good life?
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 lyes no plenty,
Then come kiss me sweet, and twenty:

Youth's a stuff will not endure.

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Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true knight.
Sir To. A contagious breath.
Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith.

Sir To To hear by the nose, is dulcet in contagion. But fall we make the welkin dance, indeed ? Shall we rouze the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three fouls out of one weaver ? shall we do that?

Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am a dog at a catch.

Clo. By'r lady, fir, 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.
Sir And. Good, i'faith : come, begin. (They sing a catch.

SCËN E IV. Enter Maria. Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here? if my lady have not call'd up her steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me.

Sir To. My lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Malvo. Jio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and “ Three merry men be we." Am not I confanguinegus ? am not I of her blood ? "

Tilly * valley, lady! there dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady.”

[Singing. Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.

Sir And. Ay, he does well enough if he be dispos'd, and fo do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more patural.

Sir To. “O, the Twelfth day of December,"—(Singing;

MAR. For the love of God, peace.



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 with

any mitigation or remorse of voice? is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? Sir To. We did keep time, fir, in our catches. Sneck

[Hiccoughs. Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. "My lady bade me tell you, that tho' she harbours you as her unele, The's nothing ally'd 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, fhie is very willing to bid you

Sir To. “ Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be
Mal. Nay, good Sir Toby.
Clo: “ His eyes do sew his days are almost done."
Mal. Is't even so ?
Sir To. But I will never die.
Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.
MAL. This is much credit to you.
Sir To. Shall I bid him


[Singing CLO.


do ?”
Sir To. “ Shall I bid him go, and spare not?"

O no, no, no, you dare not.” Sir To. Out o'time, fir, ye lie: art thou any more than a Reward? dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ?

" What an

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

Sir To. Thou’rt i'th' right.-Go, fir, rub your chain with crums.--A stoop of wine, Maria.

Mal. Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule; Me 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 hungry, to challenge him to 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 challenge: or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

MAR. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of the Duke's was to day with my Lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him : if I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think, I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed : I know I can do it.

Sir To. Poffefs us, possess us, tell us something of him. Mar. Marry, fir, 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, but I have reason good enough.

Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing constantly but a time-pleaser; an affection'd ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by great fwaths; the best persuaded of himself; fo cram'd, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, that all that look on

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