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Even so quickly may one catch the plague?

Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,

arrived but hither. With an invisible and subtle stealth,

Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir ; you might To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.

have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourWhat, ho, Malvolio!

self. She adds moreover, that you should put your lord Re-enter MALVOLIO.

into a desperate assurance she will none of him: and Mal. Here, madam, at your service.

one thing more; that you be never so hardy to come Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's The county's man: he left this ring behind him, taking of this. Receive it so. Would I, or not; tell him, I'll none of it.

Vio. She took the ring ofme; I'll none of it. Desire him not to flatter with his lord,

Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him: her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio! that finds it.

(Exit. Mal, Madam, I will.

[Exit. Vio. I left no ring with her: what means this lady? Oli, I do I know not what; and fear to find

Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her! Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.

She made good view of me; indeed, so much, Fate, shew thy force! Ourselves we do not owe; That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue, What is decreed, must be; and be this so! (Exit. For she did speak in starts distractedly.

She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion

Invites me in this churlish messenger.

None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none.
SCENE I. - The Sea-coast.

I am the man !—If it be so, (as’tis,)
Enter Antonio and Sebastian.

Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
I go with you?

Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly How easy is it for the proper-false over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we; leave, that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad re- For, such as we are made of, such we be. compense for your love, to lay any of them on you. How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly; Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound. And I, poor monster, fönd as much on him; Seb. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is mere And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me: extravagancy, But I perceive in you so excellent a What will become of this! As I am man, touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me My state is desperate for my master's love; what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges me As I am woman, now alas the day! in manners the rather to express myself. You must What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe ? know of me, then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, O time, thou must untangle this, notl; which I called Roderigo; my father was that Sebastian It is too hard a knot for me to untie.

(Exit. of Messaline, whom, I know, you have heard of: he left behind him, myself, and a sister, both born in an SCENE III.- Arooin in Olivia's house. hour. Ifthe heavens had been pleased, 'would we had Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK. so ended! but you, sir, altered that; for, some hour Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed after before you took me from the breach of the sea, was my midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, sister drowned.

thou know'stAnt. Alas, the day!

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resem- to be up late, is :o be uplate. bled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful; but Sir To. A false conclusion ; I hate it as an unfilled though I could not, with such estimable wouder, over- can. To be up after midnight, and to go to bed then, far believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, is early; so that, to go to bed after midnight, is to go she bore a mind, that envy could not but call fair:she is to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem elements ? to drown her remembrance again with more.

Sir And. 'Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment! consists of eating and drinking. Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble! Sir To. Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be drink. -Marian, — I say !--a stoop of wine ! your servant!

Enter Clown. Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, that is, Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith. kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not! Fare Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness; and I am picture of we three? yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now, let's have a catch. least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me. I Sir And.By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. am bound to the connt Orsino's court: farewell![Exit. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg;

Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee ! and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In soothi, I have many enemies in Orsino's court,

thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when Else would I very shortly see thee there:

thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing But, come what may, I do adore thee so,

the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, i'faith. That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman; hadst it?

Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's SCENE II.- A street.

nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and Enter Viola ; Malvolio following. the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, Olivia ?

when all is done. Now, a song!

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Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to a song

bid you farewell. Sir And. There's a testril of me too: if one knight Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be givea-

gone. Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of good Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. life?

Clo. His eyes do shew his days are almost done. Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.

Mal. Is't even so? Sir And. Ay, ay; I care not for good life.

Sir To. But I will never die..

Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.

Mal. This is much credit to yon.
Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming?

Sir To. Shall I bid him go? 0, stay and hear; your true love's coming


Clo. What an if you do?
That can sing both high and low:

Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not?
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers' meeting'

Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.

Sir To. Out o' time? sir, ye lie.- Art any more than Every wise man's son doth know.

a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith!

there shall be no more cakes and ale? Sir To. Good, good!

Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot

i'the month too. Clo. What is love? 'tis not hereafter;'

Sir To. Thou’rti'the right.-Go, sir, rub Present mirth hath present laughter;


chain hat's to come, as still unsure:

with crums !--A stoop of wine, Maria! In delay there lies no plenty ;

Mal, Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty,

at any thing more than contempt, you would not give

means for this uncivil rule; she shall know of it, by Youth's a stuff' will not endure.

this hand.

(Exit. Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am thue knight! Mar. Go shake your ears ! Sir To. A contagious breath!

Sir And, 'Twere as good a deed as to drink, when a Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i’faith! man's a-hungry, to challenge him to the field; and Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? Shall we Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a challenge; or rouse the night-owl in a catch, that will draw three I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. souls out of one weaver ? shall we do that?

Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since Sir And.An you love me,let's do't! I am dog at a catch. the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady, she Clo. By'r lady, şir, and some dogs will catch well. is much out of quiet. For monsieur Malvolio, let me Sir And. Most certain : let our catch be, Thou knave. alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nayword,

Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I shall be and make him a'common recreation, do not think, I constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know, I Şir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd one can do it. to call me knave. Begin , fool; it begins, Holdshy Sir To. Possess us, possess as; tell us something peace!

of him! Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.

Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. Sir And. Good, i'faith! Come, begin!

Sir And. 0, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog! [They sing a cuteh. Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy exquisite Enter Maria.

reason, dear knight. Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here! If my Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for t, but I have lady have not called up her steward, Malvolio, and bid reason good enough. him turn you out of doors, never trust me!

Mar. 'The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians; Mal- constantly but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass, that volio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three inerry men be we. cons state without book,and utters it by great swarths: Am not I consanguineous ? am I not of her blood ? Til- the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he ley-valley,lady! There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith, lady!

[Singing. that all, that look on him, love him; and on that vice clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. in him will my revenge find notable cause to work. Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be disposed, Sir To. What wilt

thou do? and so do I too; he does it with a better grace, but I do Mar. I will drop in his way some obscare epistles of it more natural.

love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape Sir To. 0, she twelfth day of December,-(Singing. of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of Mar. For the love o' God, peace!

his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himEnter MalvOLIO.

self most feelingly personated : I can write very like Mal. My masters, are you mad? or what are you? my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we can Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble hardly make distinction of our hands. like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an ale- Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device, house of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your co- Sir And. I hav't in my nose too. ziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt voice? Is there no respect of place, persous, nor time, drop, that they come from my niece, and that she is in in you?

love with him. Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. Sneck up!

Sir And. And your horse now would make him an ass. Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady Mar. Ass, I doubt not. bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her Sir And. 0, 'twill be admirable ! kiosman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you! I know, my phyyou can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, sic will work with him. I will plant you tuo, and let you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter; way out.


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observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, And the free maids, that weave their thread 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; priythee, sing!

Music. Sir And. I was adored once too.

SONG. Sir To. Let's to bed, knight!—Thou hadst need send

Clo, Come away, come away, death, 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! Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

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,

On my black coffin let there be strown!
SCENE IV.- A room in the Duke's palace.

Not a friend, not a friend greet
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.

My poor corpse,where my bones shall be thrown!, Duke. Give me some music:- Now, good morrow,

A thousand thousand sighs to save, friends :-

Lay me, 0, where

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 sing it.

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 taflata, 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 pangsofit 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.-llow dost thou like this tune? Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Vio. It gives 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 you must. Vio. Of your complexion.

Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, Duke. She is not worth thce 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 keart.

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, soouer lost and worn, No motion of the liver, but the palate, -Than women'sare.

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

But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, And can digest as much : 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,

And 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 mayowe:
Re-enter Corio, 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 lor'd a inan, Mark it, Césario; 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.

Duke. And what's her history?

Sir To. Fire and brimstone!
Vio. A blank, my lord: she never told her love, Fab. O, peace, peace!
Bat let concealment, like a worm i'the bud,

Mal. And then to have the humour of state : and after Feed on her damask cheek: she pin’d in thought, a demure travel of regard,- telling them, I know my And, with a green and yellow melancholy,

place, as I would they should do theirs,—to ask for my She sat, like patience on a monument,

kinsman Toby. Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed?

Sir To. Bolts and shackles ! We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed, Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Our shows are more than will; for still we prove Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, Much in our vows, but little in our love.,

make out for him : I frown the while; and, perchance, Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby

Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, approaches; courtsies there to me:
And all the brothers too ;- and yet I know not; Sir To. Shall this fellow live?
Sir, shall I to this lady?

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, Duke. Ay, that's the theme.

yet peace! To herin haste! give her this jewel; say,

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my My love can give no place, bide no denay! (Exeunt. familiar smile with an austere regard of control.

Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o’the SCENE V.-Olivia's garden.

lips then? Enter Sir Toby BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, and Mal. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast Fabian.

me on your niece, give me this prerogative of specch:Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian!

Sir To. What, what? Fab. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, Mal. You must amend your drunkenness. let me be boiled to death with melancholy!

Sir To. Out, scab ! Sir To. Would’st thou not be glad to have the nig- Fab. Nay,patience,or we break the sinews of our plot! gardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time shame?

with a foolish knight; Fab. I would exult, man; you know, he brought me Sir And. That's me, I warrant you. out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting here,

Mal. One sir Andrew: Sir To. To anger him, we'll havethe bear again; and Sir And. I knew,'twas I; for many do call me fool. we will fool him black and blue: — shall we not, sir Mal. What employment have we here? Andrew ?

[Taking up the letter. Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin.
Enter Maria.

Sir To. O, peace ! and the spirit of humours intimate Sir To. Here comes the little villain:-how now, my reading aloud to him! nettle of India ?

Mal. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her Mar. Get ye all three into the bor-tree: Malvolio's very C's, her U's, and her 'I'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, 1 Mal. [Reads.) To the unknown beloved, this, and my know, this letter will make a contemplative ideot o 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 ny 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: Enter MALVOLIO.

But who? Mal. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune! Maria once

Lips do not move, told me, she did affect me: and I have heard herself

Noman must know. come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one No man must know. What follows ? the numbers of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more altered !-Noman must know :-If this should be thee, exalted respect, than any one else that follows her. Malvolio? What should I think on't?

Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock ! Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue!

Mal I may command, where I adore: Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey

But silence, like a Lucrece knife, cock of him; how he jets under his advanced

With bloodless stroke nry heart doth gore; plumes !

M,O, A, I, doth sway my life. Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue !

Fab. A fustian riddle ! Sir To. Peace, I say !

Sir To. Excellent wench, say I! Mal. To be count Malvolio;

Mal. M, 0, A, I, doth sway my life.-Nay, but first, Sir To. Ah, rogue!

let me see,

- let me see, - let me see! Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him!

Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him! Sir To. Peace, peace!

Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel checks at it! Mal. There is example for’t; the lady of the strachy Mal. I may command where I adore. Why, she may married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

command me; 'I serve her, she is dry lady. Why, this Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel !

is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstrucFab. O, peace ! now he's deeply in; look, how imagi- tion in this:

Aud the end, — What should that alnation blows him !

phabetical position portend ? if I could make that reMal. Having been threemonths married to her, sit- semble something in me, -Softly!—M,0,1,1, tingin my state,

SirTo. O, ay! make up that:-he is now at a coldscent. Sir To. 0, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye ! Febr. Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, though it be Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branched as rank as a fox. velvet gown; having come from a daybed, where I left Mal. M, - Malvolio; – M, - why, that begins my Olivia sleeping :



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Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the cur is sition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it excellent at faults.

cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you Mal. M, But then there is no consonancy in the will see it, follow me. sequel ; that suflers under probation: A should follow, Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent but o does.

devil of wit! Fab. And I shall end, I hope.

Sir And. I'll make one too.'

[Exeunt. Sir To. Ay, orf'll cudgel him, and make him cry, 0. Mal. And then I comes behind ; Fab. Ay, an yon had any eye behind you, you might

А ст III. see more detraction at your hcels, than fortunes be

SCENE I.-Olivia's garden.

Enter Viola, and Clown with a tabor. Mal. M, 0, 4, 1,- This simolation is not as the for- Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music! Dost thou mer:-and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to live by thy tabor? me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft; Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. herc follows prose. If this fall into thy hand,revolve. Vio. Art thou a churchman? In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for of greatness! Some are born great, some achieve I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. church. Thy fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a tveggar, ifa embrace them! And, to inure thyself to what thou art beggar dwell near him : or, the church stands by thy like to be, cast thy humble slough, and appear fresh! tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants! let Clo.You have said,sir.–To see this age! -A sentence thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thy self into is but a cheveril glove to a good wit; how quickly the trick of singularity! She thus adrises thee, that the wrong side may be turned outward ! sighs for thee. Remember who commended thv yellow Vio. Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with stockings;

'; and wished to see thee ever cross-garter'd: words, may quickly make them wanton. I say, remember! Go to; thou art made, if thoude- Clo. I would, therefore,my sister had had no name,sir. sirest to be so; if not,let me see thee a steward still,the Vio. Why, man? fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune’s Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with fingers. Farewell. She, that would alter services with that word might make my sister wanton. But, indeed, thee,

The fortunate unhappy. words are very rascals, since bonds disgraced them. Day-light and champian discovers not more: this is Vio. Thy reason, man? open. I will be proud, I will read polític authors, I will clo. Troth, sir, I yield you none without words; baffle Sir Toby, I will wash ofl' gross acquaintance, I and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reawill be point-de-vice, the very mau. I do not now fool son with them. myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and carest excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did com- for nothing. mend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my leg being cross--gartered; and in this she maui- conscience, sir, I do not care for you : if that be to care fests herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction, for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible. drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool? stars, I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow Clo. No, indeed, sir; the lady Olivia has no folly: stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools of putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised!- Here is are as like husbands, as pilchards are to herrings, the yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who husband's the bigger; I am, indeed, not her fool, but I am. If tlou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy her corrupter of words. 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'yiheef! Jove, Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk abont the orb, like the I thank thee. - I will smile; I will do everything that sun; it shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but, thou wilt have me.

(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.

Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device. thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee! Sir And, So could I too.

Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such thee a beard ! another jest,

Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for Enter Maria.

one; though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is Sir And. Nor I neither.

thy lady within ? Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.

clo. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? Sir To. Wilt thon set thy foot o’my neck ?

Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. Sir And. Oro’mine either?

Clo. I would play lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-triy, and bring a Cressida to this Troilus. become thy bond-slave?

Vio. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd. Sir And. l'faith, or I either.

Clo. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but Sir To. Why,thou hast put him in such a dream, that, a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad. sir. I will construe to them whence you come; who you Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him? are, and what you would, are out of my welkin: I might Sir To. Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.

say, element; but the word is over-worn. [Exit. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark l'io. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; his first approach before my lady: he will come to her And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors; and He must observe their mood, on whom he jests, cross-gartered,a fashion she detests; and he will smile The quality of persons, and the time; upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her dispo-'And, like the haggard, check at every feather

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