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observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, And the free maids,that weave theirthread with bones, and dream on the event. Farewell!

[Exit. Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth, Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea!

And dallies with the innocence of love, Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench.

Like the old age. Sir To. She's a beagle,true-bred, and one that adores Clo. Are you ready, sir? me; what o’that?

Duke. Ay; pr’ythee, sing !

[Music. Sir And. I was adored once too, Sir To. Let's to bed, knight!, Thou hadst need send Clo. Come away, come away, death,

SONG. for more money. Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul

And in sad cypress let me be laid !

Fly away, fly away, breath!

I am slain by a fair cruelmaid. Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
i'the end, call me Cut.
Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how

0, prepare it!
My part of death no one so true

Did share it.
Sir To. Come, come! I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too
late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight!

Not a flower, not a flower sweet, [Exeunt.

On my black coffin let there be strown!

Not a friend, not a friend greet SCENE IV.- Aroom in the Duke's palace.

My poor corpse,where my bones shall be thrown! Enter Duke, VIOLA, Cuno, and others.

A thousand thousand sighs to save, Duke. Give me some music:- Now, good morrow,

Lay me, 0, where friends :

Sad true lover ne'er find my grave,
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night;

To weep there!
Methought it did relieve my passion much;

Duke. There's for thy pains. More than light airs and recollected terms,

Clo. No pains, sir ; I take pleasure in singing, sir. Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :

Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then. Come, but one verse!

Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that or another. should singit.

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. Duke. Who was it?

Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord ; a fool, that the lady tailor make thy doublet of changeable tatsata, for thy Olivia's father took much delight in; he is about the mind is a very opal !--I would have men of such conhouse.

stancy put to sea, that their business might be every Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while ! thing, and their intent every where; for that's it, that

(Exit Curio.-Music. always makes a good voyage of nothing.Farewell. Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love,

[Exit Clown. In the sweet pangs of it remember me!

Duke. Let all the rest give place.-For, such as I am, all true lovers are;

(Exeunt Curio and attendants. Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,

Once more, Cesario,
Save, in the constant image of the creature

Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty :
That is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune? Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Vio. It gives a

a very
echo to the seat,

Prizes not quantity of dirty lands:
Where love is thron'd.

The parts, that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, Duke. Thou dost speak masterly:

Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune; My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye But'tis that miracle, and queen of gems, Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves;

That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul. Hath it not, boy?

Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir? Vio. A little, by your favour.

Duke, I cannot be so answer'd. Duke. What kind of woman is't?

Vio. 'Sooth, but


must. Vio. Of your complexion.

Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, Duke. She is not worth thee then. What year's, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart, i'faith?

As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her;
Vio. About your years, my lord.

You tell her so: must she not then be answer'd?
Duke. Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take Duke. There is no woman's sides,
An elder than herself; so wears she to him,

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.

As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,

So big, to hold so much; they lack retention. Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,

Alas, their love may be called appetite,Morelonging, wavering, sooner lost and worn, No motion of the liver, but the palate,Than women's are.

That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt;
Vio. I think it well, my

But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, And can digest as inuch: make no compare
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:

Between that love a woman can bear me,
For woman are as roses; whose fair flower,

Aud that I owe Olivia !
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.

Vio. Ay, but I know,-
Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so; Duke. What dost thou know?
To die, even when they to perfection grow!

Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe:
Re-enter Curio, and Clown.

In faith, they are as true of heart, as wc. Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night!- My father had a daughter lov'd a man, Mark it, Cesario ; it is old, and plain :

As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,

I should your lordship.

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Duke. And what's her history?

Vio. A blank, my lord: she never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i'the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought,
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat, like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed?

We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house,
And all the brothers too;- and yet I know not;-
Sir, shall I to this lady?

Duke. Ay, that's the theme.

To her in haste! give her this jewel; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay!

SCENE V.-Olivia's garden.

Sir To. Fire and brimstone!
Fab. O, peace, peace!


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 theirs,-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; courtsies 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 [Exeunt. familiar smile with an austere regard of control. Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o'the lips then?

Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, and Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech:Sir To. What, what?


Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian! Fab. Nay, I'll come; ifI 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 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: - shall we not, sir
Andrew ?

Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.
Enter MARIA.

Sir To. Here comes the little villain:-how now, my nettle of India?

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Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. Sir To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him!

Mal. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these beher Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's very C's, her U's, and her T's ; and thus makes she her coming down this walk; he has been yonder i'the sun, great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand. practising behaviour to his own shadow, this half Sir And. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: why that? hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for, I Mal. [Reads.] To the unknown beloved, this, and my know, this letter will make a contemplative ideot of good wishes: her very phrases!-By your leave, wax. him. Close, in the name of jesting! [The men hide-Soft!-and the impressure her Lucrece, with which themselves.] Lie thou there; [throws down a letter.] she uses to seal: 'tis my lady: to whom should this be? for here comes the trout, that must be caught with Fab. This wins him, liver and all. tickling. [Exit Maria. Mal. [Reads.] Jove knows, I love: But who?

Enter MALVOLIO. Mal. "Tis but fortune; all is fortune! Maria once told me, she did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near,that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect, than any one else that follows her. What should I think on't?

Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue!-
Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-
cock of him; how he jets under his advanced

Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue !-
Sir To. Peace, I say!

Mal. To be count Malvolio;

Sir To. Ah, rogue!

Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him!

Sir To. Peace, peace!

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Mal. There is example for't; the lady of the strachy Mal. Imay command where I adore. Why, she may married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel!

Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in; look,how imagination blows him!

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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? ifI could make that resemble something in me, -Softly !—M, 0, 4, I.

Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,

Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown; having come from a daybed, where I left Olivia sleeping:

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


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 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 any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fortunes before you.

sition, 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.

Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!

Sir And, I'll make one too.


SCENE I.-Olivia's garden.


Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabor.
Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music! Dost thou
live by thy tabor?

Clo. No, sir, live by the church.
Vio. Art thou a churchman?

Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for
do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the
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.
Clo. You have said,sir.-To see this age! -A sentence
is but a cheveril glove to a good wit; 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?

Mal. M, O, 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; but be not afraid of greatness! Some are born great, some achieve I greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them! And, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh! Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants! let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity! She thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever cross-garter'd: I say, remember! Goto; thou art made, if thou desirest to be so; if not,let me see thee a steward still,the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She, that would alter services with thee, The fortunate unhappy. Day-light and champian discovers not more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, 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 cross-gartered, 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 Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's. presence still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee! Jove, Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the I thank thee.I will smile; I will do every thing that sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but thou wilt have me.

Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them.

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.

[Exit. the fool should be as oft with your master, as with my Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pen-mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there.

sion of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.

Sir To. I could marry this weneh for this device.
Sir And. So could I too.

Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest,

Enter MARIA.

Sir And. Nor I neither.

Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck?

Sir And. Or o' mine either?

Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee!

Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard!

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for one; though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within?

Clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir?
Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use.
Clo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to

Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and bring a Cressida to this Troilus.
become thy bond-slave?

Sir And. I' faith, or I either.

Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad. Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him? Sir To. Like aqua-vitae 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 abhors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her dispo

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 lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence you come; who you are, and what you would, are out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the word is over-worn. [Exit. Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood, on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time; And, like the haggard, check at every feather

your name?

That comes before his eye. This is a practice, | Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you:
As full of labour, as a wise man's art:

And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;

Your wife is like to reap a proper man:
But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. There lies your way, due west.
Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew

Vio. Then westward-hoe :

Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship! Sir To. Save you, gentleman.

You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? Vio. And you, sir.

Oli. Stay: Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.

I pr’ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. Vio. Et vous aussi ; votre serviteur.

Vio. That you do think, you are not what you are. Sir And. I hope, sir, you are ; and I am yours.

Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you. Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my niece is Vio. Then think you right; I am not what I am. desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. Oli. I would, you were as I would have yoa be!

Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir : I mean, she is the Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I am,
list of my voyage.

I wish it might; for now I am your fool.
Sir To Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion! Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I un- In the contempt and anger of his lip!
derstand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon
Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter.

Than love, that would seem hid : love's night is noon. Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance: but Cesario, by the roses of the spring, we are prevented.

By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,
Enter Olivia and Maria.

I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain Nor wit,

nor reason, can my passion hide. odours on you!

Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier : Rain odours ! For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause: well.

But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter: Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better. most pregnant and vouchsafed ear,

Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth, Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed:-I'll I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth, get 'em all three ready.

And that no woman has; nor never none
Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to Shall mistress be of it, savel alone.
my hearing.[Exeunt Sir Toby,Sir Andrew,and Maria. And so adieu, good madam; never more
Give me your hand, sir.

Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. Oli. Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, may'st move
Oli. What is

That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

[Exeunt. Oli. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world, Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment :

SCENE II.- A room in Olivia's house. You are servant to the count Orsino, youth.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-CHEEK, and Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours;

Fabian. Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay ajot longer. Oli. For him, I think not on him : for his thoughts, Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason ! 'Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me! Fab. You must needs yield your reason, sir Andrew.

Vio. Madam, I come to whet your ger thoughts Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours On his behalf:

to the count's serving man, than ever she bestowed Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you;

upon me; I saw't i'the orchard. I bade you never speak again of him:

SirTo.Did she see thee the while,old boy?tell me that. But, would you undertake another suit,

Sir And. As plain as I see you now. I had rather hear you to solicit that,

Fab. This was a great argument of love in her Than music from the spheres. Vio. Dear lady,

Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me? Oli. Give me leave, I beseech you : I did send, Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upou the oaths of After the last enchantment you did here,

judgment and reason. A ring in chase of you ; so did I abuse

Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men, since Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you :

before Noah was a sailor. Under your hard construction must I sit,

Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your sight, To force that on you in a shameful cunning, only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, Which you knew none of yours. What might you think? to put fire in your heart, and brimstone in Have you not set mine honour at the stake,

you should then have accosted her; and with some And baited it with all the unmazzled thoughts, excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for receiving

at your hand, and this was baulked: the double gilt of Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom,

this opportunity you let time wash ofl, and you are Hides my poor heart. So let me hear you speak. now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion ; where Vio. I pity you.

you will havg like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unOli. That's a degree to love.

less you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either Vio. No, not a grise; for 'tis a vulgar proof, of valour, or policy. That very oft we pity enemies.

Sir And. And't be any way,it must be with valour; for Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again : policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist, as a politician. O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!

Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon the Ifone should be a prey, how much the betler basis of valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight To fall before the lion, than the wolf? (Clock strikes. with him ; hurt him in eleven places; my niece shall The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.- Itake note of it; and assure thyself, there is no love

toward yoll.

your liver:

broker in the world can more prevail in man's com-
mendation with woman, than report of valour.
Fab. There is no way but this, sir Andrew.

Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him?

I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame,
That do renown this city.



Ant. 'Would, you'd pardon me ;

do not without danger walk these streets: Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the Count his gallies, brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent, and did some service; of such note, indeed, full of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer'd. thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people. as many lies, as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature; the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in Eng-Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel, land, set 'em down; go, about it. Let there be gall Might well have given us bloody argument. enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-It might have since been answer'd in repaying pen, no matter. About it!

Sir And. Where shall I find you? Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go. [Exit Sir Andrew. Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby. Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad; some two thousand strong, or so.

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 Andrew, if he were opened, and you find so much blood in his live, 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. Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me: yon' gull Malvolio is turned heathen,a very renegado; for there is no Christian that means to be saved by believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. He's in yellow stockings.

What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake,
Most of our city did: only myself stood out;
For which, if I be lapsed in this place,

I shall pay dear.

Seb. Do not then walk too open.

Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse;
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,
Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge,
With viewing of the town; there shall you have me.
Seb. Why I your purse?


Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy You have desire to purchase; and your store, think, is not for idle markets, sir.

An hour.

Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for
Ant. To the Elephant.-
Seb. I do remember.

SCENE IV.-Olivia's garden.


Oli. I have sent after him: he says, he'll come;
How shall I feast him? what bestow on him?
For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or borrow'd.
I speak too loud.-

Where is Malvolio?-he is sad and civil,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes ;-
Where is Malvolio?

Mar. He's coming, madam;

Sir To. And cross-gartered?
Mar. Most villainously, like a pedant that keeps a
school i' the church. I have dogged him like his
murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that
I dropped to betray him. He does smile his face into
more lines, than are in the new map, with the aug-But in strange manner. He is sure possess'd.
mentation of the Indies: you have not seen such a Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave?
thing as 'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling things at Mar. No, madam,
him. I 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.



Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you;
But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,
I will no further chide you.

Ant. I could not stay behind you; my desire,
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth;
And not all love to see you, (though so much,
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,)
But jealousy what might befall your travel,
Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger,
Unguided, and unfriended, often prove
Rough and unhospitable: my willing love,
The rather by these arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.

Seb. My kind Antonio,

I can no other answer make, but thanks,

And thanks, and ever thanks. Often good turns
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay:
But, were my worth, as is my conscience, firm,
Fou should find better dealing. What's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town?
Ant. To-morrow, sir; best, first, go see your lodging.
Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night;

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I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

Mal. Sad, lady? I could be sad: this does make some obstruction in the blood,this crossgartering: but what of that? if it please 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 my legs.
It did come to his hands, and commands shall be exe-
cuted. I think, we do know the sweet Roman hand.
Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?

Mal. To bed? ay, sweetheart; and I'll come to thee. Oli. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand so oft?

Mar. How do you, Malvolio?

Mal.At your request? Yes; nightingales answer daws. Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?

Mal. Be not afraid of greatness :-'Twas well writ.

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