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, Sir, does walk about the orb like the fun; it fhines every where. Sir, but the fool fhould be as oft I would be forry, with your miter, as with my mitrefs: I think I faw your wildom there. Vis. Nay, an thou pafs 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 almoft 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, Sir? Vin. Yes, being kept together, and put to ule. Clo. I would play Lord Pandurus of Phrygia, Sir, to bring a Crefida to this Troilus. E Vio. I understand you, Sir, 'tis well begged. Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, Sir; beg. ging but a beggar: Creffala was a beggar (11). My Lady is within, Sir, 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 overworn. [Sxit. Vio. This fellow is wife enough to play the fool, And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: (11) Creffida was a beggr.] The Poet, in this circumstance, undoubtedly had his eye on Chaucer's Terent of Crefelte.. Cupid, to revenge her profanation against his deity, callsin the planetary gods to afft him in his vengeance They inftantly turn her mirth into melan holy, her health into ficknefs, her beauty into deformity, and in the end pronounce this fentence upon her; Thus fhalt thou go give fro hous to hous He must obferve their mood on whom he jests, Sir And. Save you, gentlemen. (12) Vio. And you, Sir. Sir To. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur. Vio. Et vous auffi; votre ferviteur. Sir. To. I hope, Sir, you are; and I am yours. Will you encounter the houfe? my niece is defirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.. Vio. I am bound to your niece, Sir, I mean, she is the lift of my voyage. Sir To. 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 taste. my legs. Sir To. I mean, to go, Sir, to enter. Vio. I will anfwer you with gate and entrance but we are prevented. (12) Sir Tob. Save you, gentlemen. Vio. And you, Sir. Sir And. Dieu vous guarde, Monfieur. Vio. Et vous auff; votre ferviteur. Sir And. I hope, Sr, you are; and I am yours.] E have ventured to make the two knights change fpeeches in this dialogue with Viola; and, I think, not without good: reafon. It were a preposterous forgetfulness in the Poet, and out of all probability, to make Sir Andrew not only, fpeak French, but understand what is faid to him in it, whe in the first act did not know the English of pourquey. Enter OLIVIA and MARIA. Mot excellent accomplished Lady, the heavens rain odours on you! Sir And. That youth's a rare courier! Rainodours? well. Vio. My matter hath no voice, Lady, but to your own most pregant and vouchsafed car.. Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchfaftd:-I'll get 'em all three ready. Oli. Let the garden door be thut, and leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria.] Give me your hand, Sir. Vio. My duty, Madani, and moit humble flrvice. Oli. What is your name? Vio, Cefario is your Servant's name; fair Princefs. Oli. My fervant, Sir? Twas never merry world, Since lowly feigning was called 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 ;- Gli. Give me leave, l'befeech you: I did fend, 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,- Enough is fhewa; 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 smile again;O world, how apt the poor are to be proud! If one fhould be a prey, how much the better To fall before the lion than the wolf! [Clock Strikes.The clock upbraids me with the wafte 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 lyes your way, due weft. Vio. Then, weftward hoe: Grace and good difpofition attend your Ladyfip!! Via That you do think you are not what you are. Oli. O, what a deal of fcorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip! A murderous guilt fhews not itself more foon, By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, And fo adieu, good Madam; never more: Oli.. Yet come again; for thou, perhaps, mayest move That heart, which now abhors to like his love. [Exeunti SCENE changes to an Apartment in Olivia's Houfer. Enter Sir TOBY, Sir ANDREW, and FABIAN... Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. Sir Tob. Thy reafon, dear venom; give thy reafon. Fab. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, I faw your niece do more favours to the Duke's ferving-man, than ever the beftowed on me. I faw't, th' orchard. Sir Tob. Did fhe fee thee the while, old boy, tell me that? Sir And. As plain as I fee you now. Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toward you. |