Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.

Sir And. Save you, gentleman. (12)
Vio. And you, Sir.

Sir To. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur.
Vio. Et vous auffis voftre ferviteur.

Sir Tob. I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours.Will you encounter the Houfe? my Neice is defirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.

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

Sir Tob. Tafte your legs, Sir, put them to motion. Vio. My legs do better understand me, Sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me tafte my legs.

Sir Tob. I mean, to go, Sir, to enter.

Vio. I will answer you with gate 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 moft pregnant and vouchfafed ear.

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

Oli. Let the garden-door be fhut, and leave me to my hearing, [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. Give me your hand, Sir.

i

(12)

Sir Tob. Save you, Gentleman.
Vio. And you, Sir.

Sir And. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur.

Vio. Et vous auffi; votre Serviteur.

Sir And. I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours.]

I have ventur'd to make the two Knights change Speeches in this Dialogue with Viola; and, I think, not without good Reason. It were a prepofterous Forgetfulness in the Poet, and out of all Probability, to make Sir Andrew not only speak French, but understand what is faid to him in it, who in the First Act did not know the Englife of Pourquey.

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Fio.

Vio. My duty, Madam, and most humble fervice.
Oli. What is your name?

Vio. 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 muft 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 fill'd 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 follicit That,
Than mufick from the Spheres.

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Vio. Dear lady,

Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did fend,
After the laft enchantment, you did hear,
A ring in chase of you. So did I abuse
My felf, my fervant, and, I fear me, you;
Under your hard conftruction 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 re

ceiving

Enough is hewn ; a Cyprus, not a bofom,
Hides my poor heart. So let us hear you speak.
Vio. 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 world, how apt the poor are to be proud!

If one should be a prey, how much the better

To fall before the lion, than the wolf!

[Clock ftrikes. The

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'st of
me?

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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! Vio. 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 it felf more foon,
Than love that would feem hid: love's night is noon.
Cefario, by the roses of the Spring,

By maid-hood, honour, truth, and every thing,
I love thee fo, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my paffion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore haft no caufe:
But rather reason thus with reason fetter;
Love fought is good; but given, unfought, is better.
Vio. By innocence I fwear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bofom, and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, fave I alone.
And fo adieu, good Madam; never more
Will I my mafter's tears to you deplore.

Oli. Yet come again; for thou, perhaps, may'ft move That heart, which now abhors to like his love.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE changes to an Apartment in OLIVIA'S Houfe.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. Sir And. NO, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. Sir To. dear venom, give

thy reafon.

Fab. You muft needs yield your reafon, Sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, I faw your Neice do more favours to the Duke's ferving-man, than ever fhe bestow'd on me... I faw't, i'th' orchard.

Sir To.. Did the fee thee the while, old boy, tell me that?

...

you now.

Sir And. As plain as I fee Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toward you.

Sir And Slight! will you make an afs o' me? Fab. I will prove it legitimate, Sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason

Sir To. And they have been Grand Jury-men Gince before Noah was a failor.

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Fab. She did fhew favour to the youth in your fight, only to exalperate you, to awake your dor mouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brim ftone in your liver. You fhould then have accofted her, and with fome excellent jefts, fire-new from the mint, you should have bang'd the youth into dumbnefs. This was look'd for at your hand, and this was baulkt. The double Gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now fail'd into the North of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an ificle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by fome laudable attempt, either of valour or policy.

Sir And. And't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownift as a politician.

Sir To.

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Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the bafis of valour; challenge me the Duke's Youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my Neice fhall take note of it; and affure thy felf, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valour.

Fab. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. Sir And. Will either of you bear me a Challenge to him?

Sir To. Go, write in a martial hand; be curft and brief it is no matter how witty, fo it be eloquent, and full of invention; (13) taunt him with the licence of ink; if thou thou'ft him fome thrice, it fhall not be amifs; and as many lies as will lye in thy fheet of paper, although the fheet were big enough for the Bed of Ware in England fet 'em down, go about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, tho' thou write with a goofe-pen, no matter: about it.

Sir And. Where fhall I find you?

Sir To. We'll call thee at the Cubiculo: go.

[Exit Sir Andrew. Fab. This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby.

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(13) Taunt him with the Licence of Ink; if thou thou'ft him fome thrice,] There is no Doubt, I think, but this Paffage is One of thofe, in which Our Author intended to fhew his Refpect for Sir Walter Raleigh, and a Deteftation of the Virulence of his Profecutors. The Words, quoted, feem to me directly levell'd at the Attorney General Coke, who, in the Trial of Sir Walter, attack'd him with all the following indecent Expreffions. "All that he did was by thy Inftigation, thou Viper for I thou thee, thou Traytor!" (Here, by the way, are the Poet's three thou's.) "You are an odious Man." 6 Is he bafe? I re

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"C

turn it into thy Throat, on his behalfe.'

"O damnable A

66

theift!"

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"Thou art a Monster; thou hast an English Face, but a Spanish Heart.” "Thou bast a Spanish Heart, and thyself "art a Spider of Hell." "Go to, I will lay thee on thy Back for "the confident'ft Traytor that ever came at a Bar," &c. Is not here all the Licence of Tongue, which the Poet fatyrically prescribes to Sir Andrew's Ink? And how mean an Opinion Shakespeare had of these petulant Invectives, is pretty evident from his Clofe of this Speech; Let there be Gall enough in thy Ink, tho' thou write it with a Goose-pen, no Matter.- A keener Lash at the Attorney for a Fool, than all the Contumelies the Attorney threw at the Prisoner as a fuppos'd Traytor!

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Sir To.