Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, The parts, that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, N 5 But 'tis that miracle, and Queen of Gems, Say, that fome Lady, as, perhaps, there is, Can bide the beating of fo ftrong a paffion, And can digeft as much; make no compare Vio. Ay, but I know→→→→→ Duke. What doft thou know? 5 But 'tis that miracle, and Queen of Gems, That nature pranks her IN, -] What is that miracle, and Queen of Gems? we are not told in this reading. Besides, what is meant by nature pranking her in a miracle ?We should read, But 'tis that miracle, and Queen of Gems, That nature pranks, HER MIND, — ie. what attracts my foul, is not her Fortune, but her Mind, that miracle, and Queen of Gems that nature pranks, i. e. sets out, and adorns. 6 IT cannot be so anfwer'd } We should read I; the reply fhews it. Ú་་ Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe; In faith, they are as true of heart, as we. My father had a daughter lov'd a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, Duke. And what's her hiftory? Vio. A blank, my Lord: the never told her love, 'But let concealment, like a worm i'th' bud, Feed on her damask cheek: fhe pin'd in thought; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, 7 She fat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed?. 7 She fat like patience on a monument, We Smiling at grief.] Mr. Theobald fuppofes this might poffibly be borrowed from Chaucer. And her befidis wonder difcretlie, Dame Pacience fittinge there I fonde With face pale, upon an hill of fonde. And adds, If he was indebted, however, for the firft rude draught, how amply has be repaid that debt, in heightning the picture! How much does the green and yellow melancholy tranfcend the old bard's pale face; the monument his hill of sand.- -I hope this Critick does not imagine Shakespear meant to give us a picture of the face of Patience, by his green and yellow melancholy; because, he fays, it tranfcends the pale face of Patience given us by Chaucer. To throw Patience into a fit of melancholy, would be indeed very extraordinary. The green and yellow then belonged not to Patience, but to her who fat like Patience. To give Patience a pale face, was proper: and had Shakespear defcribed her, he had done it as Chaucer did. But Shakespear is fpeaking of a marble ftatue of Patience; Chaucer, of Patience herself. And the two reprefentations of her, are in quite different views. Our Poet, fpeaking of a defpairing lover, judiciously compares her to Patience exercised on the death of friends and relations; which affords him the beautiful picture of Patience on a monument. The old Bard speaking of Patience herself, directly, and not by comparison, as judiciously draws her in that circumftance where the is most exercised, and has occafion for all her virtue; that is to fay, under the loffes of Shipwreck. And now we fee why he is reprefented as fitting on an hill of fand, to defign the scene to be the fea-fhore. It is finely imagined; and one of the noble fimplicities of that admirable Poet. But the Critick thought, in good earnest, that Chaucer's invention was We men may fay more, fwear more, but, indeed, 8 Duke. But dy'd thy fifter of her love, my boy? Vio. I'm all the daughters of my fathers' house, And all the brothers too- and yet I know notSir, fhall I to this Lady? Duke. Ay, that's the theam. To her in hafte; give her this jewel: fay, SCENE VII. Changes to Olivia's Garden. Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. Sir To. COME thy ways, Signior Fabian. Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a fcruple of this fport, let me be boil'd to death with melancholy. Sir To. Would'ft thou not be glad to have the niggardly rafcally fheep-biter come by fome notable fhame ? was fo barren, and his imagination fo beggarly, that he was not able to be at the charge of a monument for his Goddess, but left her, like a ftroller, funning herself upon a heap of fand. 8 I'm all the daughters of my fathers' boufe, And all the brothers too- - This was the most artful anfwer that could be given. The question was of fuch a nature, that to have declined the appearance of a direct answer, must have raised fufpicion. This has the appearance of a dire& anfwer, that the fifler died of her love; the (who pafled for a man), faying, fhe was all the daughters of her father's houfe. But the Oxford Editor, a great enemy, as fhould feem, to all equivocation, obliges her to anfwer thus, She's all the daughters of my father's boufe, And I am all the fons But if it fhould be asked now, how the Duke came to take this for an aafwer to his question, to be fure the Editor can tell us. Fab. Fab. I would exult, man; you know, he brought me out of favour with my Lady, about a bear-baiting here. Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue, fhall we not, Sir Andrew? Sir And. An we do not, it's pity of our lives. Enter Maria, Sir To. Here comes the little villain: how now, my nettle of India? Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree; Malvolio's coming down this walk, he has been yonder i'th' fun practifing behaviour to his own fhadow this half hour. Obferve him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this Letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jefting! lye thou there; for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. [Throws down a letter, and Exit. Mal. 'Tis but fortune, all is fortune. Maria once told me, fhe did affect me; and I have heard her felf come thus near, that fhould fhe fancy, it fhould be one of my complexion. Befides, fhe ufes me with a more exalted refpect, than any one elfe that follows her. What should I think on't? Sir To. Here's an over-weaning rogue. Fab. O, peace: contemplation makes a rare Turkey-cock of him; how he jets under his advanc'd plumes! Sir And. 'Slife, I could fo beat the rogue, Sir To. Peace, I say. Mal. To be Count Malvolio, Sir To. Ah, rogue! Sir And. Piftol him, pistol him. Mal. There is example for't: the Lady of the Fab. O, peace, now he's deeply in; look, how imagination blows him. Mal. Having been three months married to her, fitting in my ftate Sir To. O for a ftone-bow, to hit him in the eye!-Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branch'd velvet gown; having come down from a day-bed, where I have left Olivia fleeping. Sir To. Fire and brimftone! Fab. O, peace, peace. Mal. And then to have the humour of ftate; and after a demure travel of regard, telling them, I know my place, as I would they fhould do theirs to ask for my uncle Toby Sir To. Bolts and fhackles ! Fab. Oh, peace, peace, peace; now, now. Mal. Seven of my people with an obedient start make out for him: I frown the while, and, perchance, wind up my watch, or play with fome rich jewel. Toby approaches, curtfies there to me. Sir To. Shall this Fellow live? Fab. Tho' our filence be drawn from us with cares, yet, peace. Mal. 9 the Lady of the Strachy] We fould read Trachy, i. e. Thrace; for fo the old English writers called it. Mandeville fays, As Trachye and Macedoigne of the which Alitandre was Kyng. It was common to use the article the before names of places: And this was no improper instance, where the scene was in Illyria. Tho' our filence be drawn from us with cares,] i. e. Tho it is the greatest pain to us to keep filence. Yet the Oxford Editor has altered it to, Tho' our filence be drawn from us by th' ears. There |