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already, Sir, with falt water, tho' I feem to drown her remembrance again with more.

be

Ant. Pardon me, Sir, your bad entertainment.
Seb. O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.

Ant. If you will not murther me for my love, let me
your servant.

Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recover'd, defire it not. Fare ye well at once; my bofom is full of kindness, and I am yet fo near the manners of my mother, that upon the leaft occafion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am bound to the Duke Orfino's court; farewel. [Exit. Ant. The gentleness of all the Gods go with thee! I have made enemies in Orfino's court, Elfe would I very shortly fee thee there: But come what may, I do adore thee fo,

The danger shall seem sport, and I will go.

Enter Viola and Malvolio, at feveral doors.

[Exit.

Mal. Were not you e'en now with the Countefs "Olivia?

Vio. Even now, Sir; on a moderate pace I have fince arrived but hither.

Lord

Mal. She returns this ring to you, Sir; you might have faved me my pains, to have taken it away your felf. She adds moreover, that you fhould put your into a defperate affurance, fhe will none of him. And one thing more, that you be never fo hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your Lord's taking of this receive it fo.

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 fhould be so return'd: if it be worth stooping for, there it lyes in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. [Exit. Vio. I left no ring with her; what means this Lady? Fortune forbid, my outfide have not charm'd her! She made good view of me; indeed, fo much, That, fure, methought her eyes had lost her tongue; For fhe did fpeak in starts distractedly :

She

She loves me, fure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish meffenger.

None of my Lord's ring? why, he fent her none.
I am the man- -If it be fo, (as, 'tis ;)
Poor Lady, fhe were better love a dream.
Difguife, I fee, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How eafie is it, for the proper falfe

In women's waxen hearts to fet their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the caufe, not we,
For fuch as we are made, if fuch we be.
How will this fadge? my mafter loves her dearly,
And I, poor moniter, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, feems to dote on me."
What will become of this? as I-am man,
My ftate is defperate for my mafter's love;
As I am woman, (now, alas the day!)
What thriftless fighs fhall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou muft untangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me t'unty.

Sir To.

SCENE changes to Olivia's House.

Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.

AP

[Exit.

Pproach, Sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and Diluculo furgere, 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 conclufion: I hate it, as an unfill'd can; to be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, is early; fo that to go to bed after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life confilt of the four elements?

Sir And. 'Faith, fo they fay; but, I think, it rather confifts of eating and drinking.

Sir To. Th'art a scholar, let us therefore eat and drink. Maria! I fay!-a ftoop of wine.

Vo L. III.

F

Enter

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, afs, now let's have a catch.

Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breaft. I had rather than forty fhillings I had fuch a leg, and fo sweet a breath to fing, as the fool has. In footh, thou waft in very gracious fooling laft night, when thou spok'ft of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians paffing the Equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas very good, i'faith: (5) I fent thee fix-pence for thy Leman, hadit it?

Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nofe 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 beft fooling, when all is done. Now, a Song.

Sir To. Come on, there's Six-pence for you. have a Song.

Let's

Sir And. There's a teftril of me too; if one Knight give a

Clo. Would you have a Love-fong, or a Song of good life?

Sir To. A Love-fong, a Love-fong.

Sir And. Ay, ay, I care not for good life.

Clown fings.

O mifirefs mine, where are you roaming?
Oftay and hear, your true love's coming,
That can fing both high and low.
Trip no further, pretty fweeting";
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Every wife man's fon doth know.

5) 1 fent thee fix pence for thy Lemon, had't it?] But the Clown was neither Pantler, nor Butler. The Poet's Word was certainly mistaken by the Ignorance of the Printers. I have reftor'd, leman, i. e. I fent thee Sixpence to spend on thy MiArefs.

Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith!
Sir To. Good, good.

Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter:
Prefent mirth hath prefent laughter:
What's to come, is ftill unfure;
In delay there lyes no plenty:

Then come kifs me, fweet, and twenty:
Youth's a fluff will not endure.

Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true Knight. Sir To. A contagious breath.

Sir And. Very fweet and contagious, i'faith.

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

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

Clo. By'r Lady, Sir, and fome dogs will catch well. Sir And. Moft certain; let our catch be, Thou knave. Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, Knight. I fhall be conftrain'd in't, to call thee knave, Knight.

Sir And. 'Tis not the firft time I have conftrain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace.

Clo. I fhall never begin, if I hold my peace.

Sir And. Good, i'faith: come, begin.

Enter Maria.

[They fing a catch.

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, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramfey, and Three merry men be we. Am not I confanguinious? am I not of her blood? Tilly valley, Lady! there dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady. [Singing. Člo. Befhrew me, the Knight's in admirable fooling. Sir And. Ay, he does well enough if he be difpos'd,

F 2

and

and fo 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 o'God, peace.

Enter Malvolio.

Mal. My mafters, are you mad? or what are you? have you no wit, manners, nor honefty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? do ye make an alehoufe of my Lady's house, that ye fqueak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorfe of voice? is there no refpect of place, perfons, nor time in you? Sir To. We did keep time, Sir, in our catches. Sneck [Hiccoughs.

up!

Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady bade me tell you, that tho' fhe harbours you as her Uncle, fhe's nothing ally'd to your diforders. If you can feparate your felf and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the House: if not, an it would pleafe you to take leave of her, he is very willing to bid you farewel.

Sir To. Farewel, dear heart, fince I must needs be gone. Mal. Nay, good Sir Toby.

Clo. His eyes do fhew, his days are almost done.

Mal. Is't even fo?

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 go?

Clo. What, an if you do?

Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not?

Clo. O no, no, no, you dare not.

[Singing.

Sir To. Out o'time, Sir? ye lie: art thou any more than a steward? doft thou think, because thou art virtuous, there fhall be no more cakes and ale?

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

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

Mal. Miftrefs Mary, if you priz'd my Lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give

means

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