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SCENE I. — The Sea-coast.

that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire

it not. Fare ye well at once : my bosom is full of Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN.

kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of Ant. Will you stay no longer ? nor will you not my mother, that upon the least occasion more, that I go with you?

mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine Count Orsino's court : farewell.

[Exit. darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee. perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave I have many enemies in Orsino's court, of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: Else would I very shortly see thee there : It were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any But, come what may, I do adore thee so, of them on you.

That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit. Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound. Seb. No 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is

SCENE II. – A Street. mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort

Enter VIOLA; MALVOLIO following. from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore Mal. Were not you even now with the Countess it charges me in manners the rather to express my- Olivia ? self. You must know of me, then, Antonio, my Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo; my since arrived but hither. father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom Il Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir; you know you have heard of: he left behind him, my- might have saved me my pains, to have taken it self, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the away yourself. She adds moreover, that you heavens had been pleased, 'would we had so ended ! should put your lord into a desperate assurance but you, sir, altered that; for, some hour before she will none of him: and one thing more ; that you took me from the breach of the sea, was my you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, sister drowned.

unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Ant. Alas, the day!

Receive it so. Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much Vio. She took the ring of me: I'll none of it. resembled me, was yet of many accounted beauti- Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; ful; but though I could not, with such estimable and her will is, it should be so returned : if it be wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy not, be it his that finds it.

[Exit. could not but call fair : she is drowned already, sir, Vio. I left no ring with her: What means this with salt water, though I seem to drown her re

lady? membrance again with more.

Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her! Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. She made good view of me; indeed so much, Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. That sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue,

Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let For she did speak in starts distractedly. me be your servant. .

She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, Invites me in this churlish messenger.

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None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the I am the man; — If it be so (as 't is),

fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious foolPoor lady, she were better love a dream.

ing last night, wherr thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,

of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus : Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. 't was very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for How easy it is for the proper-false

thy leman : hadst it? In women's waxen hearts to set their forms ! Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for MalvoAlas, how frailty is the cause, not we;

lio's nose is no whipstock : My lady has a white For, such as we are made of, such we be. hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle alehouses. How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly; Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best foolAnd I, poor monster, fond as much on him; ing, when all is done. Now a song. And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me:

Sir Toby. Come on; there is sixpence for you: What will become of this ! As I am man, let's have a song My state is desperate for my master's love;

Sir And. There's a testril of me too: if one As I am woman, now alas the day!

knight gives a — What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe ! Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of! O Time, thou must untangle this, not I;

good life? It is too hard a knot for me to untie. [Exit. Sir Toby. A love-song, a love-song.

Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. SCENE III.- A Room in OLIVIA's house.

Clown sings.

O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? Enter SiR TOBY BELch and SIR ANDREW AGUE

0, stay, and hear; your true love's coming, CHEEK.

That can sing both high and low:

Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Sir Toby. Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be a

Journeys end in lovers meeting, bed after midnight, is to be up betimes : and dilu

Every wise man's son doth know. culo surgere, thou know'st

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but Sir And. Excellent good, i' faith! I know, to be up late, is to be up late.

Sir Toby. Good, good. Sir Toby. A false conclusion; I hate it as an unfilled can : To be up after midnight, and to go

Clown sings. to bed then, is early: so that, to go to bed after What is love ? 't is not hereafter : midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our Present mirth hath present laughter; lives consist of the four elements ?

What's to come is still unsure: Şir And. 'Faith, so they say; but I think it

In delay there lies no plenty;

Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty, rather consists of eating and drinking.

Youth 's a stuff will not endure. Sir Toby. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. - Marian, I say! — a stoop of Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true wine!


Sir Toby. A contagious breath.
Enter Clown.

Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. Sir And. Here comes the fool, i' faith.

Sir Toby. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance the picture of we three.

indeed ? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch Sir Toby. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a that will draw three souls out of one weaver ? shall catch.

we do that? Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excel- Sir And. An you love me, let's do it: I am lent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had dog at a catch.

Clo. By’r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house; if well.

not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she Sir And. Most certain : let our catch be, is very willing to bid you farewell. " Thou knave.”

| Sir Toby. Farewell, dear heart, since I must Clo. “Hold thy peace, thou knave,” knight? I needs be gone." shall be constrained in't to call thee knave, knight. Mar. Nay, good Sir Toby.

Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have con- Clo. “ His eyes do shew his days are almost strained one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it be- done." gins, “ Hold thy peace.”

Mal. Is 't even so ?
Clo. I shall never begin if I hold my peace. Sir Toby. “But I will never die.”
Sir And. Good, i' faith! Come, begin.

Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.
[They sing a catch. Mal. This is much credit to you.

Sir Toby. “Shall I bid him go ?[Singing.
Enter MARIA.

Clo. What an if you do?

Sir Toby. “Shall I bid him go, and spare Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here ! not ?" If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvo | Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.” lio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust | Sir Toby. Out o'time? sir, ye lie.— Art any me

more than a steward ? Dost thou think, because Sir Toby. My lady's a Cataian; we are politi- thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and cian's; Malvolio 's a Peg-a-Ramsay, and “ Three ale ? merry men be we.” Am not I consanguineous ? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be am not I of her blood ? Tilly-vally, lady! “There hot i' the mouth too. dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!” [Singing. Sir Toby. Thou’rt i’ the right. — Go, sir, rub

Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable your chain with crums :— A stoop of wine, Maria. fooling.

| Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be dis- favor at any thing more than contempt, you would posed, and so do I too; he does it with a better not give means for this uncivil rule; she shall know grace, but I do it more natural.

of it, by this hand.

[Exit. Sir Toby. 0, the twelfth day of December,” — Mar. Go shake your ears.

[Singing. Sir And. ’T were as good a deed as to drink Mar. For the love o' God, peace.

when a man 's a-hungry, to challenge him to the

field; and then to break promise with him, and Enter MALVOLIO.

make a fool of him.

Sir Toby. Do't knight ; I'll write thee a chalMal. My masters, are you mad ? or what are lenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but word of mouth. to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do Mar. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night; ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that since the youth of the count's was to-day with my ye squeak out your cozier's catches without any lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malmitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no re- volio, let me alone with him : if I do not gull him spect of place, persons, nor time, in you ? into a nay word, and make him a common recrea

Sir Toby. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. tion, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight Sneck up!

in my bed : I know I can do 't. Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Sir Toby. Possess us ; possess us; tell us somelady bade me tell you, that, though she harbors thing of him. you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of disorders. If you can separate yourself and your Puritan.

Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him. Sir Toby. Send for money, knight; if thou hast like a dog.

her not in the end, call me Cut. Sir Toby. What, for being a Puritan ? thy ex- Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it quisite reason, dear knight?

how you will. Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for 't, but Sir Toby. Come, come; I'll go burn some sack, I have reason good enough.

l't is too late to go to bed now : come, knight; come, Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any- knight.

[Exeunt. thing constantly but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by great swarths : the best persuaded of himself, so SCENE IV.- A Room in the DUKE's Palace. crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith that all that look on him love

Enter DUKE, VIOLA, Curio, and others. him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find Duke. Give me some music:— Now, good mornotable cause to work.

row, friends : Sir Toby. What wilt thou do?

Now, good Cesario :— But that piece of song, Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epis- That old and antique song we heard last night; tles of love; wherein, by the color of his beard, Methought it did relieve my passion much; the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the More than light airs and recollected terms, expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, Of these most brisk and giddy-pacéd times :he shall find himself most feelingly personated : I Come, but one verse. can write very like my lady, your niece ; on a for- Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, gotten matter we can hardly make distinction of that should sing it. our hands.

Duke. Who was it ? Sir Toby. Excellent ! I smell a device.

Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the Sir And. I have't in my nose too.

Lady Olivia's father took much delight in; he is Sir Toby. He shall think, by the letter that thou about the house. wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the she is in love with him.


[Exit CURIO.—Music. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color. Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,

Sir Toby. And your horse now would make him In the sweet pangs of it remember me: an ass.

For such as I am all true lovers are ; Mar. Ass, I doubt not.

Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Sir And. 0, 't will be admirable.

Save in the constant image of the creature Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you : I know, my That is beloved.— How dost thou like this tune? physic will work with him. I will plant you two, Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat and let the fool make a third, where he shall find Where love is throned. the letter; observe his construction of it. For this Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. My life upon 't, young though thou art, thine eye

[Exit. Hath stayed upon some favor that it loves; Sir Toby. Good night, Penthesilea.

Vio. A little, by your favor. Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. Duke. What kind of woman is 't?

Sir Toby. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one Vio. Of your complexion. that adores me : what o' that ?

Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years, • Sir And. I was adored once too.

il faith? Sir Toby. Let's to bed, knight.— Thou hadst Vio. About your years, my lord. need send for more money.

Duke. Too old, by heaven : Let still the woman Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am

take a foul way out.

| An elder than herself; so wears she to him,

So sways she level in her husband's heart.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,

Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,

and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable tafMore longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, fata, for thy mind is a very opal ! — I would have Than women's are.

men of such constancy put to sea, that their busiVio. I think it well, my lord.

ness might be every thing, and their intent every Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thy- where; for that's it that always makes a good voyself,

age of nothing. Farewell. [Exit Clown. Or thy affection cannot hold the bent :

Duke. Let all the rest give place. — For women are as roses ; whose fair flower,

[Exeunt Curio and Attendants. Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.

Once more, Cesario,
Vio. And so they are : alas, that they are so; Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty :
To die, even when they to perfection grow. Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,

Prizes not quantity of dirty lands :
Re-enter Curio and Clown.

The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her, Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune; night:

But 't is that miracle and queen of gems Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain :

That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul. The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,

Vio. But if she cannot love you, sir? And the free maids that weave their thread with Duke. I cannot be so answered. bones,

Vio. 'Sooth, but you must. Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth,

Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, And dallies with the innocence of love

Hath for your love as great a pang of heart Like the old age.

As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her; Clo. Are you ready, sir ?

You tell her so: Must she not then be answered ? Duke. Ay; pr’ythee sing.


Duke. There is no woman's sides

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
Clown sings.

As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart

So big to hold so much; they lack retention.
Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cyprus let me be laid;

Alas, their love may be called appetite, -
Fly away, fly away, breath;

No motion of the liver, but the palate,–
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

That suffers surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
O, prepare it;

And can digest as much : make no compare
My part of death no one so true

Between that love a woman can bear me,
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

And that I owe Olivia.
On my black coffin let there be strown;

Vio. Ay, but I know,
Not a friend, not a friend greet

Duke. What dost thou know?
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown Vio. Too well what love women to men may
A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, 0, where

In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
Sad true lover ne'er find my grave,

My father had a daughter loved a man,
To weep there.

As it might be, perhaps, where I a woman,
Duke. There's for thy pains.

I should your lordship.
Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. Duke. And what's her history?
Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure, then.

Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told her love, Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud, time or another.

| Feed on her damask cheek; she pined in thought;

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