C.o. Are you ready, sir? SONG. Clo. Come away, come away, death, [Music] My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, My part of death no one so true Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet Duke. And what's her history? Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love, Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? Ay, that's the theme. thrown; A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, 0, where Sad true lover ne'er find my grave, Duke. There's for thy pains. Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-Olivia's Garden. Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and Fabian. Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame? Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taf-me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baitfeta, for thy mind is a very opal'-I would have ing here. men of such constancy put to sea, that their busi- Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again; ness might be every thing, and their intent every and we will fool him black and blue:-Shall we where; for that's it, that always makes a good not, sir Andrew? Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. voyage of nothing.-Farewell. [Exit Clown. And can digest as much: make no compare Vio. Ay, but I know, Duke. What dost thou know? 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 woman, I should your lordship. (1) A precious stone of all colours. (2) Decks. (3) Denial. 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' the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [throws down a letter] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. Enter Malvolio. [Exit Maria. Maria Mal. "Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Sir And. 'Slight,I could so beat the rogue :- Mal. To be count Malvolio ! Sir To. Ah, rogue! Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. Sir To. Peace, peace! Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,1 Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branch ed velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I left Olivia sleeping. Sir To. Fire and brimstone ! Mal. And then to have the humour of state and after a demure travel of regard,→telling them, I know my place, as I would they should do their's -to ask for my kinsman Toby: Sir To. Bolts and shackles! Fab. O, 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 some rich jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me: Sir To. Shall this fellow live? Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace. Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control: Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then? Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech: Sir To. What, what? Mal. You must amend your drunkenness. Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight; Sir And. That's me, I warrant you. Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call fool. Mal. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.Nay, but first, let ine see, let me see,-let me see. Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him! Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel1 checks at it! Mal. I may command where I adore. Why, she may command me; I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstruction in this ;-And the end,-What should that alphabetical position portend? if 1 could make that resemble something in me, Softly! M, O, A, I Sir To. O, ay! make up that :-he is now at a cold scent. Fab. Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, though it be as rank as a fox. Mal. M, Malvolio ;-M,-why, that begins my name. Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults. Mal. M,-But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does. Fab. And O shall end, I hope. Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry, O. Mal. And then I comes behind; Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than for tunes before you. Mal. M, Ö, A, I;-This simulation is not as the former :-and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft! here follows prose.-If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee t but be not afraid of greatness Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have great me ness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. Mal. What employment have we here? And, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, [Taking up the letter. cast thy humble slough," and appear fresh. Be opa Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. posite with a kinsman, surly with servants: let thy Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into intimate reading aloud to him! the trick of singularity: She thus advises thee, Mal. By my life, that is my lady's hand: these that sighs for thee. Remember who commended be her very C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of cross-gartered: I say remember. Go to; thou art question, her hand. made if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her 7's Why thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not that? worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She Mal. [reads] To the unknown beloved, this, and that would aller services with thee, my good wishes: her very phrases! By your leave, The fortunate-unhappy ; wax.-Soft!-and the impressure her Lucrece, Day light and champain discovers not more: this with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady: To is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, whom should this be? Fab. This wins him, liver and all. But who? Lips do not move, No man must know. Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock !' But silence, like a Lucrece knife, Fab. A fustian riddle! Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. I will baffle sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-de-vice," the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crossgartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised!-Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well: therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee. Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him? Sir To. Like aqua-vitæ with a midwife. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abbors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted] to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it, follow me, Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest for nothing. Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you; if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible. Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool? Clo. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger; I am, indeed, not her fool, but her corrupter of words. Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's. Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my mistress: I think, I saw your wisdom there. Vio. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd. Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My you come: who you are, and what you would, are lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the [Exeunt. word is over-worn. [Exit. Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excel lent devil of wit! Sir And. I'll make one too. ACT III. Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; SCENE I-Olivia's Garden. Enter Viola, and And, like the haggard, check at every feather Clown with a tabor. Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music: thou live by thy tabor? Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. Vio. Art thou a churchman? That comes before his eye. This is a practice, Dost For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit; Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church. Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him: or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church. But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Ague- Sir To. Save you, gentleman. Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my Clo. You have said, sir.-To see this age!-Aniece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be sentence is but a cheveril3 glove to a good wit; to her. How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward! Vio. Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton. Clo. I would therefore, my sister had had no name, sir. Vio. Why, man? Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word, might make my sister wanton: But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds] disgraced them. Vio. Thy reason, man? Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with thein. A boy's diversion three and tip. Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list of my voyage. Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion. Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. I Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance: But we are prevented. Enter Olivia and Maria. Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you! Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! Rain odours! well. (4) See the play of Troilus and Cressida. Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant' and vouchsafed ear. Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed:I'll get 'em all three ready. Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. Give me your hand, sir. Vie. My duty, madam, and most humble service. Oli. What is your name? Vio. Cæsario is your servant's name, fair princess. Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. O, by your leave, I pray you; Vio. Dear lady, Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you: I did send, Have you not set mine honour at the stake, receiving2 Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom, Hides my poor heart: So let me hear you speak. Vio. I pity you. Oli. That's a degree to love. Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies. Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to 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? smile [Clock strikes. 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 is come to harvest, Your wife is like to reap a proper man: There lies your way, due west. Vio. Then westward-hoc : Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship! You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? Oli. Stay: I pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. are. Oli. If I think so, I think the same 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 scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip! (1) Ready. (2) Ready apprehension. (3) Step. (1) In spite of. A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon I By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, son. Fab. You must need yield your reason, sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more fayours to the count's serving-man, than ever she bestowed upon me; I saw'ti' the orchard. Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that. Sir And. As plain as I see you now. Fab. This was a great argument of love in her toward you. Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass 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, since before Noah was a sailor. Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dor mouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in your liver: You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jest, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was baulked: the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some 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 Brownist, as a politician. Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall take note of it: and assure thyself, 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 chal lenge to him? Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be (5) Separatists in queen Elizabeth's reign. (6) Crabbed. eloquent, and full of invention: taunt him with Seb, I am not weary, and 'tis long to night; the license of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes Ant. it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie With the memorials, and the things of fame, Sir And, Where shall I find you? Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll not deliver it, Sir To. Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer, I think, oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together. For An- I drew, if he were opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy. Fab, And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty. Enter Maria, Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes, I "Would, you'd pardon me; Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people, Do not then walk too open. purse; In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, With viewing of the town; there shall you have me. I Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy yourselves into stitches, follow me: yon' gull Mal-You have desire to purchase; and your store, voliq is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there think, is not for idle markets, sir." is no Christian, that means to be saved by believing Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages An hour. of grossness, He's in yellow stockings. Sir To. And cross-gartered? Mar, Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' the church.-I have dogged him, like his Ant. To the Elephant.- and Maria. I do remember. [Exeunt. murderer: he does obey every point of the letter SCENE IV.-Olivia's Garden, Enter Olivia that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his face into more lines, than are in the new map, with the augmentation of the Indies; you have not seen How shall I feast him? what bestow on him? Oli. I have sent after him: He says, he'll come; such a thing as 'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or borthings at him. know, my lady will strike him; if she do, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour. Sir To, Come, bring us, bring us where he is, [Exeunt. SCENE III-A street, Enter Antonio and Se. bastian, Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you; Ant, I could not stay behind you; my desire, Seb. 4 My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make, but, thanks, (1) In Hertfordshire, which held forty persons. row'd. I speak too loud. Where is Malvolio ?-he is sad, and civil, He does nothing but smile: your ladyship Oli, Go call him hither. I'm as mad as he, How now, Malvolio? Mal. Sweet lady, ho, ho! [Smiles fantastically. I sent for thee upon a sad" occasion. Mal. Sad, lady? I could be sad: this does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering: but what of that, if it pleases the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is: Please one and please all. Oli. Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee? Mal, Not black in my mind, though yellow in (4) Wealth. (5) Caught. Grave and demure, (7) Grave, |