Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring, Dia. I must be patient: Ber. I have it not. King. What ring was yours, I pray you? Dia. The same upon your finger. Sir, much like King. Who lent it you? It was not lent me neither. I found it not. King. Where did you find it then? King. If it were yours by none of all these ways, King. This ring was mine: I gave it his first Dia. It might be yours, or hers, for aught I know. King. Know you this ring? this ring was his of To prison with her; and away with him.— Dia. And this was it I gave him, being a-bed. Out of a casement. Dia. I have spoke the truth. Enter PAROLLES. King. Take her away. Dia. Because he 's guilty, and he is not guilty. King. Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life! you, Not fearing the displeasure of your master, By him, and by this woman here, what know you? I am either maid, or else this old man 's wife. [Pointing to LAFEU, King. She does abuse our ears. To prison with her! Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail.-[Exit Widow.] King. Come, come; to the purpose. Did he love And he shall surety me. this woman? Par. 'Faith, sir, he did love her; but how? King. How, I pray you? The jeweller that owes the ring, is sent for, Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a And at that time he got his wife with child: Hel. No, my good lord: 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see; Dia. Do you know, he promised me marriage? The name, and not the thing. Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak. Ber. Both, both! O, pardon! [Kneeling." King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st? Hel. O! my good lord, when I was like this maid, Par. Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between | I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring; them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her,— And look you, here's your letter: this it says: for, indeed, he was mad for her, and talked of Satan, "When from my finger you can get this ring, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not what: yet | I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knew of their going to bed, and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things that would derive me ill will to speak of: therefore, I will not speak what I know. And are by me with child," &c.-This is done: I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue, Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon.— Good Tom Drum, [TO PAROLLES.] lend me a handkerchief: so, I thank thee. Wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones. King. Let us from point to point this story know, To make the even truth in pleasure flow. [To DIANA.] If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped | Of that, and all the progress, more and less, flower, Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower; Resolvedly more leisure shall express: [Flourish. EPILOGUE The king's a beggar, now the play is done. 1 This line is not in f. e. BY THE KING.' With strife to please you, day exceeding day: TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, WHAT YOU WILL. SCENE I.—An Apartment in the DUKE's Palace. O! it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,2 'T is not so sweet now, as it was before. Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy, That it alone is high-fantastical. Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord? What, Curio? Cur. The hart. And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, Vio. What country, friends, is this? Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance, (Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) E'er since pursue me."-How now! what news from her? Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, Enter VALENTINE. Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh Duke. O! she that hath a heart of that fine frame, 1 Musicians attending: in f. e. 2 The old copies read: sound; Pope made the change. 3 Not in f. e. 4 Value. 5 My thoughts, like hounds, pursue me to my death." Daniel's Delia,” 1592. Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count Vio. Cap. Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain, I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. Vio. I thank thee. Lead me on. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-A Room in OLIVIA'S House. Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and MARIA. Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care 's an enemy to life. Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order. Sir To. Confine? I'll confine myself no finer than I am. These clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too: an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish knight, that you brought in one night here to be her wooer. Sir. To. Who? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek? Sir To. He's as tall a man as any 's in Illyria. Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. 1 Old eds. sight, and company. or towns, for the use of the public. was considered a sign of debility. Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats: he's a very fool, and a prodigal. Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature. Mar. He hath, indeed,—all most natural; for, besides that he's a fool, he 's a great quarreller; and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 't is thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave. Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and substractors that say so of him. Who are they? Mar. They that add, moreover, he 's drunk nightly in your company. 3 Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece. I'll drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my throat, and drink in Illyria. He's a coward, and a coistril, that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench! Castiliano vulgo, for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face. Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. Sir. And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby Belch? Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew. Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. Mar. And you too, sir. Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost. Sir. And. What's that? Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid. Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. Mar. My name is Mary, sir. Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost, Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost is front her, board her, woo her, assail her. Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. Sir To. An thou let her part so, sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again! Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. Mar. Now, sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your metaphor ? Mar. It's dry,' sir. Sir And. Why, I think so: I am not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what 's your jest? Mar. A dry jest, sir. Sir And. Are you full of them? Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit MARIA. Sir To. O knight! thou lack'st a cup of canary. When did I see thee so put down? Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down. Methinks, sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has; but I am a great eater of beef, and, I believe, that does harm to my wit. Sir To. No question. Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, sir Toby. 2 Fine, brave. 3 From kestrel, a mongrel kind of hawk. 4 A large top was formerly kept in parishes Sir Toby's mistake, says Verplanck, for volto-Put on a grave face. 6 This word is not in f. e. 7 This Sir To. Pourquoi, my dear knight ? Sir And. What is pourquoi? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. Ó, had I but followed the arts! Sir To. Then hadst thou an excellent head of hair. Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past question; for, thou seest, it will not curl by nature. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does 't not? Sir To. Excellent: it hangs like flax on a distaff, and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs, and spin it off. Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four to one she 'll none of me. The count himself, here hard by, woos her. Sir To. She'll none o' the count: she 'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there 's life in 't, man. Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world: I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight? Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters: and yet I will not compare with an old man. Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard,1 knight? 2 Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, simply as strong as any man in Illyria. [Dances fantastically. Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto ? My very walk should be a jig: I would not so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. 5 Sir And. Ay, 't is strong, and it does indifferent well in a dun-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus ? Sir And. Taurus? that's sides and heart." Sir To. No, sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper. [Sir AND. dances again.] Ha! higher ha, ha!-excellent! [Exeunt. : SCENE IV.-A Room in the DUKE's Palace. Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire. Val. If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger. Vio. You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours ? Val. No, believe me. Enter DUKE, CURIO, and Attendants. Vio. I thank you. Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho? Vio. On your attendance, my lord; here. Thou know'st no less but all: I have unclasp'd Sure, my noble lord, Vio. Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then? Dear lad, believe it, 10 Enter MARIA, and Clown. 11 Mar. Nay; either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee for thy absence. Clo. Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in Clo. He shall see none to fear. Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery. Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mar. Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent: or, to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you? Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning away, let summer bear it out. Mar. You are resolute, then? Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two points.12 Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins13 fall. Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here [Curio, &c. retire.' comes my lady: make your excuse wisely; you were best. -Cesario, 1 A quick, lively dance. 2 Not in f. e. 3 Mary Frith, a great notoriety of the time, who went about in may be found prefixed to "The Roaring Girl," in Dodsley's Old Plays, Vol. VI., and in the Pictorial Shakspere. 89 Not in f. e. 10 a 5 The name of a dance, the measures whereof are regulated by the number five.-Sir John Hawkins. [Exit. male attire; a wood cut of her |