ACT III. SCENE I.

OLIVIA's garden.

Enter Viola and Clown.

VIOLA.

AVE thee, friend, and thy mufick. Doft thou live by thy tabor?

CLO. No, fir, I live by the church.

V10. Art thou a churchman?

CLO. No fuch matter, fir; I do live by the church; for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church. V10. So thou may'ft say, the king lyes by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him: or the church ftands by thy tabor, if thy tabor ftand by the church.

CLO. You have said, fir.

To fee this age!.

A fentence is but a chev'ril glove to a good wit; how quickly the wrong fide may be turned outward?

V10. Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton.

CLO. would therefore, my fifter had had no name, fir. VIO. Why, man?

CLO. Why, fir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my fifter wanton; but, indeed, words are very rafcals, fince bonds difgrac'd them.

V10. Thy reafon, man?

CLO. Troth, fir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so falfe, I am loth to prove reason with them.

V10. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing.

CLO, Not fo, fir, I do care for fomething; but, in my

confcience, fir, I do not care for you; if that be to care for nothing, fir, I would, it would make you invisible.

Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool?

CLO. No, indeed, fir; the lady Olivia has no folly; the will keep no fool, fir, 'till fhe be married; and fools are as like hufbands, as pilchers are to herrings, the husband's the bigger: I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words.

VIO. I faw thee late at the duke Orfino's.

CLO. Foolery, fir, does walk about the orb like the fun; it shines every where. I would be forry, fir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress: I think, I faw your wisdom there.

VIO. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee.

CLO. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, fend thee a beard!

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost fick for one, though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?

CLO. Would not a pair of thefe have bred, fir?

Tro. Yes, being kept together, and put to use.

CLO. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, fir, to bring a Creffida to this Troylus.

Vio. I understand you, fir, 'tis well begg'd.

CLO. The matter, I hope, is not great, fir; begging but a beggar: Creffida was a beggar. My lady is within, fir, I will confter, to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, is out of my welkin; I might fay, element; but the word is over-worn.

Vio. This fellow is wife enough to play the fool, And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit:

[Exit.

He must obferve their mood on whom he jefts,
The quality of the perfons, and the time;
And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a wife-man's art:

For folly, that he wifely fhews, is fit;

But wife men's folly fall'n, quite taints their wit.

SCENE II. Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. Sir AND. Save you, gentleman.

Vio. And your, fir.

Sir To. "Dieu vous guarde, monfieur."

VIO.

"Et vous auffi; votre ferviteur."

Sir To. I hope, fir, you are; and I am yours.

-Will

you encounter the house; my niece is defirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.

Vio. I am bound to your niece, fir; I mean, fhe is the lift of my voyage.

Sir To. Taste your legs, fir, put them to motion.

V10. My legs do better understand me, Sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.

Sir To. I mean, to go, fir, to enter.

V10. I will answer you with gaite and entrance; but we are prevented.

Enter Olivia and Maria.

Moft excellent accomplish'd lady, the heav'ns rain odours on you!

Sir AND. That youth's a rare courtier! rain odours? well. VIO My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchfafed ear.

Sir AND. Odours, pregnant, and vouchfafed:-I'll get 'em all three ready.

OLI. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria.

hearing.

SCENE

Give me your hand, fir.

III.

Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble fervice.
OLI. What is your name?

V10. Cefario is your fervant's name, fair princess.
OLI. My fervant, Sir? 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment:

Y'are fervant to the duke Orfino, youth.

Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Your fervant's fervant is your fervant, madam.

OLI. For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, 'Would they were blanks, rather than filled with me! Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf.

OLI. O, by your leave, I pray you ;

I bade you never speak again of him.
But would you undertake another suit,
I'd rather hear you to folicit that
Than mufick from the spheres.
Vio. Dear lady.-

OLI. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did fend,
After the last enchantment, (you did hear)
A ring in chase of you. So did I abuse
Myfelf, my fervant, and, I fear me, you;
Under your hard construction must I fit,
To force that on you in a fhameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?

Have you not fet mine honour at the stake,

And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts

That tyrannous heart can think? to one of your receiving Enough is fhewn; a cyprus, not a bofom,

Hides my poor heart. So let us hear you fpeak.

V10. I pity you.

OLI. That's a degree to love.

Vio. No, not a grice; for 'tis a vulgar proof,

That very oft we pity enemies.

OLI. Why then, methinks, 'tis time to fmile again; O work, how apt the poor are to be proud!

[Clock strikes.

If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion, than the wolf!
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you;
And yet when wit and youth are come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man:
There lies your way, due weft.

VIO. Then weftward hoe:

Grace and good difpofition attend your ladyship;
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?

OLI. Stay, pr'ythee tell me, what thou think'ft of me?
VIO. That you do think, you are not what you are.

OLI. If I think fo, I think the fame of you.
VIO. Then think you right, I am not what I am.
OLI. I would you were, as I would have you be!
V10. Would it be better, madam, than I am?

I wish it might, for now I am your fool.

OLI O, what a deal of fcorn looks beautiful

In the contempt and anger of his lip!

A murd'rous guilt fhews not itself more foon,
Than love that would feem hid: love's night is noon.
Cefario, by the rofes of the fpring,

By maid-hood, honour, truth, and every thing,