CLO. Alas, why is she so?

MAL. Fool, I say!

CLO. She loves another.

Who calls, ha ?

MAL. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper. As I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't.

CLO.

Master Malvolio !

MAL. Ay, good fool.

CLO. Alas, sir, how fell you beside your five wits?

MAL. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused. They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses! and do all they can to face me out of my wits.

CLO. Advise you what you say; the minister is here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore ! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble-babble.

MAL. Sir Topas !

CLO. Maintain no words with him, good fellow.-Who, I, sir ? not I, sir. God be wi' you, good Sir Topas. Marry, amen. I will, sir, I will.

MAL. Good fool, help me to some light and some paper: I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. CLO. Well-a-day, that you were, sir!

MAL. By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper, and light, and convey what I will set down to my lady: it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did.

CLO. I will help you to't. I will fetch you light and paper and ink.

MAL. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I prithee, be gone.

CLO.

I am gone, sir,

And anon, sir,

I'll be with you again.

[Exit.

THE WINTER'S TALE

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

ACT IV.

Scene 11-Bohemia. A Road near the Shepherd's Cottage. Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing.

When daffodils begin to peer,

With heigh! the doxy, over the dale,

Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year;

For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.

My father named me Autolycus; who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. A prize! a prize!

Enter Clown.

CLO. Let me see; what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? "Three pound of sugar; five pound of currants; rice," what will this sister of mine do with rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. I must have saffron, to colour the warden pies; mace, dates,— none; that's out of my note :-nutmegs seven; a race or two of ginger, but that I may beg;-four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o' the sun.

AUT. O! that ever I was born!

CLO. I' the name of me!

[Grovelling on the ground.

AUT. O help me, help me! pluck but off these rags, and then death, death!

CLO. Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.

AUT. I am robbed, sir, and beaten ; my money

and apparel

ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me. CLO. What, by a horseman or a footman?

AUT. A footman, sweet sir, a footman.

CLO. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand.

AUT. O! good sir, tenderly, O!

[Helping him up.

CLO. Alas, poor soul!

AUT. O good sir; softly, good sir! shoulder-blade is out.

I fear, sir, my

AUT. Softly, dear sir. (Picks his pocket.) Good sir, softly. You ha' done me a charitable office.

CLO. Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.

AUT. No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir. I have a kinsman not past three-quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going: I shall there have money, or anything I want: offer me no money, I pray you! that kills my heart. CLO. What manner of fellow was he that robbed you? AUT. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with trol-my-dames: I knew him once a servant of the prince. I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court. He hath been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus.

CLO. Out upon him! Prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings.

AUT. Very true, sir; he, sir, he: that's the rogue that put me into this apparel.

CLO. How do you now?

AUT. Sweet sir, much better than I was: I can stand and walk. I will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman's.

CLO. Shall I bring thee on the way?

AUT. No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir.

CLO. Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing.

(Exit Clown.) Your purse

your spice. I'll be with

AUT. Prosper you, sweet sir! is not hot enough to purchase you at your sheep-shearing too. If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled, and my name put in the book of virtue.

Jog on, jog on, the footpath way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.

[Exit.

KING JOHN

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

ACT III.

Part of Scene III.

K. JOHN. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, We owe thee much: within this wall of flesh There is a soul counts thee her creditor, And with advantage means to pay thy love; And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say, But I will fit it with some better time. By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd To say what good respect I have of thee.

HUB. I am much bounden to your majesty.

K. JOHN. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet;

But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow,

Yet it shall come for me to do thee good.

I had a thing to say, but let it go:

The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton and too full of gawds
To give me audience: if the midnight bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one into the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a churchyard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy-thick,
Which else runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes;

Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit alone,

Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words;
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts:
But ah! I will not yet I love thee well;
And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well.

HUB. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act,
By heaven, I would do it.

K. JOHN.

Do not I know thou wouldst ? Good Hubert! Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend, He is a very serpent in my way;

And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread

He lies before me: dost thou understand me?
Thou art his keeper.

Remember.

[Exeunt.

I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee;
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee:

ACT IV.

Scene I.-Northampton. A Room in the Castle.

Enter HUBERT and Two Attendants.

HUB. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand

Within the arras: when I strike my foot

Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth,

And bind the boy which you shall find with me

Fast to the chair: be heedful. Hence, and watch.

FIRST ATTEND. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. HUB. Uncleanly scruples! fear not you look to't.

[Exeunt Attendants.

Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you.

Enter ARTHUR.

ARTH. Good morrow, Hubert.
HUB.

Good morrow, little prince.