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Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
Sir And. Save you, gentleman. (12)
Sir To. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur.
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.
Sir Tob. Save you, Gentleman.
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.
Vio. My duty, Madam, and most humble fervice.
Vio. Cefario is your fervant's name, fair Princess.
Vio. And he is yours, and his muft needs be yours:
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; -
Vio. Dear lady,
Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did fend,
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
Enough is hewn ; a Cyprus, not a bofom,
Oli. That's a degree to Love.
Vio. No not a grice: for 'tis a vulgar proof,
Oli. Why then, methinks, 'tis time to fmile again;
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.
Vio. Then, weftward hoe:
Grace and good difpofition attend your ladyship!
Oli. Stay; pr'ythee tell me, what thou think'st of
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
By maid-hood, honour, truth, and every thing,
Oli. Yet come again; for thou, perhaps, may'ft move That heart, which now abhors to like his love.
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
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?
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.
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. 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.
(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
turn it into thy Throat, on his behalfe.'
"O damnable A
"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!